Acceptance
by JellyBean30
Summary: 3rd in Trilogy Downward Spiral & Redemption. HAMERON WUDDY FINAL CHAPTERS! The Wuddy baby birth, a major change for House & Cameron and just a little glimpse into their futures.COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

Hey all. Here is the start of the third story of what has become a trilogy. Updates will likely be a little shorter and less frequent, but I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I'm enjoying writing it. As always, reviews are appreciated. No flames, please, my fragile little ego can't take it.

PS - I don't own House. If I did, I wouldn't share him with anyone.

**Acceptance**

_Chap 1_

Patience had always been one of James Wilson's most positive qualities. Patience helped him succeed as a doctor, the patience to listen to the sorrows of the dying, the patience to wait out new treatments for promising results. Today, his patience was failing him.

Late yesterday afternoon, his best friend of over ten years, one Dr. Gregory House, had barged into his office and demanded his engagement ring. Wilson had been entrusted to keep said ring until House was ready to propose to Dr. Allison Cameron, the newly promoted Associate Dean of Medicine at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Since that time, Wilson had been waiting on tenterhooks for some indication of her response.

Their relationship had not been an easy one; no relationship with House ever was or ever would be. Despite that Wilson was hopeful that things would finally go his friend's way. House had not had a happy life, rather the opposite in fact. He'd had happiness, but somehow it never seemed to last. Either life or House got in the way of it. This time, Wilson wanted it to be different.

When the clock on his computer showed the time to be 10:30am, Wilson reasoned that House would have to be in by now. He'd asked to be advised if House should call in sick today, and had received no such call. Wilson forced himself to wait another five minutes until he really could not wait a minute longer. He walked to the door leading out to the balcony he shared with House and looked across its expanse. The blinds were drawn, giving him no indication as to whether House was there or not.

Although House never had any trouble scaling the balcony wall and entering Wilson's office unannounced, it was simply not in Wilson's nature to do so. So, he crossed his office and entered the hall, carefully controlling his pace so as not to seem too eager. House would only tease him about his enthusiasm.

The blinds to House's office were also drawn on the hallway side, and this caused Wilson to pause. Closing himself off from the hospital could mean one of two things. She had said yes, and they were currently 'celebrating' in the most inappropriate way possible, which was a distinct possibility where House was concerned. Or she had said no, and he was warning people off to leave him alone. In either case, he was unlikely to respond to Wilson's knock. Hoping not to have his retinas scorched, Wilson opened the door and stuck his head inside.

"House?" Wilson called. The chair behind his desk was turned to face the windows, although their view was obscured. Wilson took note of the cane hooked on the edge of the desk and entered.

"House?" He asked again, more tentatively. This wasn't looking very promising. "You okay?"

Wilson got no response. He wasn't quite sure how to proceed. He didn't want to rub salt in the wound if she'd said no, but damn that House was so unpredictable, Wilson couldn't be sure House wasn't putting him on just for fun.

"Did you ask her?" Wilson asked, sitting in one of the chairs on the other side of the desk. This seemed like a sensible enough place to begin. Perhaps Wilson was being overly dramatic and House hadn't asked at all.

House did not turn around, but instead held up a legal pad that he'd been holding in his lap. _'Yes'._

"Okay. Did she say yes?" Wilson asked, gently and hopefully.

House lowered the pad, flipped the page and lifted it back up. _'No'._

"She said no?" Wilson asked, still gently but with disbelief.

Another lowering and another flip of the page. _'No'._

"She didn't say yes and she didn't say no?" Wilson asked, now confused.

Again, the pad lowered and the page was flipped. _'She wants to think it over. Yes, I'm fine. No, I don't want to talk about it.'_

"House, just because she wants to …" Wilson's voice trailed off as House flipped the page on the pad without lowering it.

'_Really, don't want to talk about it.'_

Wilson sighed. He knew better than to try to force a conversation out of House about this. If he didn't want to talk about it, he wouldn't and trying to force it out of him now would only ruin his chances at having an actually conversation later.

"Okay. Well, when you're ready," Wilson offered. He stood up, not really sure he wanted to leave House alone. Sadly realizing he really had no other option, he exited.

xxxxxxxxxx

"Allison, are you okay? You look a little pale," Cuddy said as she came out of her office to file some clinic charts.

"I'm fine. I just didn't get much sleep last night," Cameron said, smiling sadly at her boss.

"You're still a terrible liar," Cuddy remarked. She stopped in front of Cameron's desk. "What's going on?"

"Lisa, I appreciate your concern, but I'm just not ready to talk about it yet," Cameron said.

"It's House," Cuddy said and Cameron nodded. Cuddy looked her over carefully and then nodded. If it was something Cameron didn't want to talk about with her, hopefully it was something House wanted to talk about with Jimmy.

xxxxxxxx

House sat in his chair and stared at the blinds covering his window. He did not play any music. His cane, untwirled and untapped rested next to him, hooked on the desk. House sat. He had been sitting since he'd arrived that morning. He had not moved for hours. The thought of walking back out into the hospital and facing her or Wilson was nauseating. He sat and thought for the first time in months how much he missed his Vicodin.

Had this been a year earlier, he would have taken an extra pill or two to escape the pain. He grimaced, had this been a year earlier he would have been alone, without even the hope of her accepting him.

Buried in his thoughts, House didn't hear the door open behind him. He became aware of a person in the room, a male judging from the aftershave. He briefly thought that Wilson must have been getting desperate for some information when he recognized that was not Wilson's aftershave.

"House?" the man said, and House turned his chair.

"Quig, what are you doing here?" House asked. He had never spoken to Quig outside the confines of the other man's office and to have him here was a little unsettling.

"I need your help," Quig said and for the first time House noticed the file he held in his hands.

Seizing on the possibility of a case being a perfect way to get his mind off of his current troubles, House motioned for Quig to sit.

"So, got a nut-job with a real medical problem?" House joked. Quig didn't seem amused.

"Not exactly," Quig said. He handed House the file and slumped back in the chair. House noted his odd body language. Quig was a tall man and usually carried himself with the sort of confidence and comfort House usually associated with happiness or contentment. The Quig slumped in his chair looked nothing like that. He looked defeated. A glance at the file in his hands told House why.

"This is your wife?" House asked, just to be absolutely certain. Quig nodded.

"Tell me she's not dying," Quig said.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

House sat at the conference room table staring at the whiteboard, which was currently filled with nearly a dozen symptoms. Jasper and Foreman entered behind him, followed closely by Price.

"We're pulling out all the stops on this one, kids. Can't have my shrink crying on my shoulder," House said without turning around.

Foreman raised his eyebrows in surprise. He cast his eyes toward his colleagues, only to realize neither Jasper nor Price had been there long enough to know how odd it was for House to take a patient he knew, even only by association. The only time Foreman was aware he'd ever done it was when they had treated Mark Warner, and that had been no picnic.

Jasper and Price were already studying the file and Foreman joined them. The symptoms were varied and non-specific, ranging from fever and headaches to sudden drops in blood pressure and chest pain.

"Do we have a history?" Foreman asked.

"I'll take care of that," House said. At this, Jasper exchanged a glance with Foreman. She hadn't been there long, but it was long enough to know House never took a patient history. He barely even spoke to patients.

"The heart arrhythmia and blood pressure changes could be caused by dehydration, which is pretty likely given how long she's been vomiting and feverish," Price said. "When was she admitted?"

"She's being admitted now," House responded, tapping his cane on the floor and pursing his lips at the whiteboard.

"We should make sure she's not dehydrated and her electrolytes are balanced. If the heart and blood pressure problems persist they're symptoms of the primary problem and not a complication," Price continued.

"Good. Do that, and let's repeat all the blood and urine tests her primary care doctor did. I'll get the history," House stood and limped out of the office without waiting for an answer. The three fellows looked at each other.

"I'll monitor her while we get her hydrated if you two would like to begin her tests," Price offered. Jasper and Foreman nodded and the fellows exited to conference room to being working on their new patient.

xxxxxxxx

House approached the room and stood outside. He waited a minute or two for Quig to notice him and then gestured to join him. Quig spoke quickly to his wife and exited the room.

"The team will be here in a few minutes to start working on some tests. We need to go over her history," House said as he took a seat in the waiting area just a few paces away. Quig joined him.

"You're taking a history?" Quig asked. "That's either really flattering or really scary."

"Nah, I just don't like taking blood. Needles, blech," House said, shuddering dramatically for effect and Quig smiled sadly. House looked down the floor. "You won't lie to me," House added.

"You think I'd lie to them?" Quig asked as the ducklings walked past and entered Mrs. Quigley's room.

"Not intentionally," House said. "You might leave something out that's important without knowing it. I'm not afraid to ask the embarrassing questions."

"Right," Quig nodded, looking back over his shoulder toward his wife's room. "What do you want to know?"

"You have any symptoms?" House asked. Quig shook his head. "Nothing at all, even a few weeks ago when she first got sick?" House persisted.

"No. Nothing. I checked her calendar for the past month and a half, there's nothing," Quig answered.

"Her calendar?"

"She's a nurse. Was a nurse, she retired last year. She's kept a calendar of our illnesses and symptoms for as long as I can remember. She said she saw too often that people just couldn't remember little things like headaches and pains that are early warning signs of bigger things. She writes down everything and every six months or so she reviews them for patterns. I can bring it in, if you think it will help," Quig offered. House nodded.

"She's retired. What sort of nursing did she do?" House asked.

"OB for the last ten years she worked. Before that she was a surgical nurse," Quig answered. House frowned, not too much infectious stuff in OB.

"And now?" House asked.

"She volunteers at a local orphanage. Is that important?" Quig asked.

"Probably not. No traveling?" House asked and Quig again shook his head. "So now the big one, any extramarital stuff I need to know about?"

"Not on my part. I assume not on hers but if you feel you need to ask, do. I really don't care, as long as she's okay," Quig answered. House raised an eyebrow at this answer. "If she cheated, it's done. I can be angry about it later. Right now, I only care if she's going to get better."

xxxxxxxxx

Cameron sighed and brushed a few strands of lint from her pants. She glanced at her watch and sighed again. She'd arrived fifteen minutes early and as a result was now waiting. She hated waiting, but she hated worse to be late for anything.

"Allison Cameron?" a voice called from the doorway, and Cameron stood to follow the nurse back to Dr. Bell's office.

"Good afternoon, Allison," Dr. Bell greeted her. Dr. Lucy Bell was a youngish woman, with mid-length blonde hair. Cameron had seen three other psychologists before settling on Dr. Bell. She hadn't felt terribly comfortable with the others, but Dr. Bell had an easy, friendly manner that Cameron found soothing.

"Dr. Bell," Cameron answered. She'd been seeing Dr. Bell for two months now, and this had been their last scheduled visit. After her outburst about the twins and the subsequent fight with House, Cameron had finally opened up to Dr. Bell about her past. It had taken these past twomonths to work through it, but Cameron was finally feeling better. Today, however, she had a new problem on her mind.

"You seem a little tense today. Are you concerned about this being our last session? Because you know if you're not comfortable with the situation yet, we can certainly continue. It's entirely up to you," Dr. Bell offered reassuringly.

"I am concerned, but not about what we've been discussing. There's something else, something recent that I need help with," Cameron began, but then hesitated. She felt somehow like she was betraying House for discussing this with someone else.

"Of course. Allison, that's what I'm here for," Dr. Bell answered. She could sense Cameron's reluctance.

"I've been in a relationship, as you know," Cameron said. Dr. Bell nodded. She and Cameron had discussed her relationship briefly in their sessions. "Well, he proposed."

"Really?" Dr. Bell said. In what little they'd discussed, Dr. Bell had gotten the sense that Cameron's relationship was progressing slowly. A sudden proposal would certainly be unsettling.

"I want to say yes, more than anything," Cameron said.

"But something is stopping you?" Dr. Bell prompted. Cameron nodded. "Allison, you know anything you have to say is completely confidential."

"It's Dr. House," Cameron blurted.

"Dr. House?" Dr. Bell asked. "You think he'll take issue with your getting engaged?"

"Dr. House is the one who proposed," Cameron confessed.

"Hmm," Dr. Bell said.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I know this chapter is really short, but this is not one of my best medical mysteries so I kept it pretty bare bones. This isn't one of my favorite chapters, but I hope it isn't too terrible.**

Chapter 3

Days passed, and Mrs. Quigley continued to decline. Her blood pressure and cardiac problems were not complications, but symptoms. In fact, they had become more frequent as time went on, accompanied by muscle pains, rashes and swelling. House had even braved the wrath and asked her about an affair. She denied it, and House believed her. Anyone who spent more than a minute with her knew she could no more cheat on her husband than she could leap tall buildings in a single bound.

Quig had brought in the calendar she kept of their symptoms, and while it gave the team an excellent timeline of her illness, it didn't reveal anything that could help discover what it was. House had gone to their home with Quig and looked it over himself; it revealed nothing.

On day three, Price had suggested leukemia. House scoffed.

"You oncologists, it's always cancer with you guys," he sneered. Price only stared. "Fine, test her." House said. Price had been wrong.

On day five, while Foreman and Jasper were heatedly debating Jasper's insistence they treat her for lupus, despite House's protestations that Cameron must have possessed her, all three fellow's pagers began beeping. Price, Foreman and Jasper rushed to Mrs. Quigley's room, House remained behind. Only minutes later, Jasper and Price returned.

"New symptom," Jasper stated. "Tremors, possibly a mini-seizure. Foreman's taking her for an MRI now."

xxxxx

Cameron sat in Dr. Bell's office, waiting for her to arrive. She'd been ushered in by the nurse, who had told her Dr. Bell would be a few minutes. Dr. Bell joined her quickly.

"Alright Allison, last time you gave me the background on your relationship. Why don't we pick up where we left off, which was a few weeks before he proposed. You alluded to a fight?" Dr. Bell picked up her pen and pad to take notes.

Cameron quickly recapped the argument she and House had the night Cameron left. Dr. Bell made a few notes while Cameron spoke. When she'd finished, Dr. Bell considered for a moment.

"Allison, before we begin our discussion, I'd like for you to tell me about the night he proposed," Dr. Bell inquired.

Cameron closed her eyes and remembered those moments again, the scene that had been playing in her head and dreams for days.

"_Busy for the rest of your life?" House asked._

_Cameron gasped for a second time. She looked at House in stunned silence. A voice was screaming in her head to say yes. Cameron could feel herself stepping forward to help him off the floor and wrapping her arms around him. The voice in her head screamed louder to say yes already you fool. _

_And then, a quieter voice pervaded her thoughts. Why was he asking now? Did he really want to marry her? Was he only asking because he thought that was what she wanted?_

"_House, I…" Cameron began._

"_House?" he asked her. "What happened to Greg?" He released her from his embrace and dropped his gaze to the floor; his voice was tight and edgy._

"_Why now?" Cameron asked. House looked up at her blankly. "A couple of weeks ago you weren't even sure you wanted me around. Now you want to get married?"_

"_I heard Price asking you out today," House said._

"_I said no," Cameron protested tiredly._

"_But you could have said yes," House said, eyes to floor once again. Cameron shook her head, but House wasn't looking. "You smiled at him."_

"_I was just…" Cameron started, but House interrupted her._

"_That's supposed to be my smile," he told her. Cameron felt nauseous. Those two voices in her head were now shouting at each other. Should she be thrilled that he'd finally admitted he wanted her, or dismayed that he only thought he wanted her because he was afraid someone else did? Her mind reeled back to their first fight, and the 'I love you'. Was this going to be his solution to their problems?_

"_I need to think about this," Cameron finally said. She watched as House's face, so open when he'd entered her apartment, became stony. He grabbed his jacket and cane from the sofa roughly. He turned to leave, but then turned back. He placed the ring box in her hand._

"_If you give it back, I'll know your answer," he told her and then limped out before she could respond._


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Foreman returned from checking on Mrs. Quigley to report yet another new symptom. She was experiencing hearing loss. House wrote the new symptom on the whiteboard. He limped to the windows and began twirling his cane, trying to make some connection. As he did, Jasper was staring at Price. He was talking to himself quietly, and his eyes darted back and forth. Suddenly he stood and walked to the whiteboard.

House turned and opened his mouth to protest, but he too noted the odd look on Price's face. It was interesting. Price grabbed the eraser and wiped the board clean. He then rewrote all the symptoms in columns, adding bullet points when he'd finished.

"Did she have protein in her urine?" Price asked suddenly.

"Yes," Jasper replied after glancing quickly at the folder in front of her.

Price nodded and added six more symptoms to his columns in red rather than black marker. He looked it over until satisfied and then turned to House.

"She's got Lassa fever," he announced.

"Lassa fever?" House repeated. "A retired OB nurse from Jersey got Lassa fever?"

"I don't know how she got it, but that's what she has. It explains every one of her symptoms. Mason's Guide to Infectious Diseases, page 897. It's perfect," Price stated.

* * *

House found Quig standing outside his wife's room, watching her sleep. Quig looked at him questioningly as Price and Jasper filed into the room beside them.

"We're going to start treating her for Lassa fever," House said.

"Lassa fever?" Quig asked slowly. "How could she get that?"

"The orphanage. They take in refugee overflow kids. They had kids from Sierra Leone a month ago," House reported. Jasper had checked it out as a possible source of the infection after Price's insistence that his diagnosis was correct.

"Is it fatal?" Quig asked.

"Only in about 15 of cases, and usually only when there's no treatment available," House responded. "We're starting her on an anti-viral, ribavirin. We can cure the infection."

"But?" Quig asked. He knew House too well not recognize the implication of that last statement.

"It's possible her hearing loss will be permanent," House answered, staring at his sneakers.

Quig was slow in responding. "But she'll be okay otherwise?" House nodded. "At least I'll be able to sing in the shower again."

* * *

"So Allison, your concerns seemed to be centered on his motivations for proposing," Dr. Bell surmised.

"I'm just afraid he's doing this because he thinks it's what I want," Cameron said.

"Is it what you want?"

"Yes, but not if that's the only reason," Cameron said. She closed her eyes. This was all so confusing. "I love him. I would love to marry him. But I won't marry him under false pretenses. If he's only asking because he thinks it will solve our fight or if he's only doing it to try to make me happy then … then it's wrong for him and he won't be happy. That's not what I want."

"I understand. Allison, there's nothing wrong with wondering about these things. Women who have been dating their partners for years sometimes wonder about these very things when faced with an unexpected proposal. It's clear to me you love him deeply by how concerned you are that he will be happy too. The only problem I see is that you're talking to me about this instead of him," Dr. Bell told her.

Cameron snorted. "Sorry," she apologized. "He's not the easiest man to talk to you."

"I can imagine," Dr. Bell said. "How do you usually work things out?"

"Yelling and sex," Cameron said, blushing and turning her face from Dr. Bell's gaze.

"Well, I wouldn't suggest sex at this point," Dr. Bell said wryly.

"That's not how it starts, but somehow it ends up in either yelling or sex," Cameron said. "Or crying."

"Well, if you can avoid the sex for one conversation about your future, the yelling and crying are acceptable. I don't see how you could avoid them over such an emotionally charged subject. Is there any other way you've been able to communicate with him?"

Cameron paused to think about this question honestly. House had certainly gotten better at talking to her over the past year. _I can't believe it's been nearly a year,_ Cameron thought. She thought back over their entire relationship. He communicated a lot through actions, but the only action she could take now was to return the ring or keep it. She needed something from him before she could decide that. She needed to know if he really wanted to ask her. If _he_ wanted it, not if he thought she did.

Cameron closed her eyes and let her mind wander. As she did so, she realized how often she associated House with music. Sitting on his couch and listening to some CD or other that he insisted she would love. Or waking up during the night to hear him playing the piano. Even her own Ipod was filled with music and songs that reminded her of him.

"Music," Cameron said.

"Music?"

"I can tell a lot about his mood by the music he's listening to or playing. And he can tell that about me, too. We have communicated through music before, I guess I just never thought about it," Cameron said.

"Is that something that could be helpful to you now?" Dr. Bell asked.

"Yes, I think it could," Cameron said, and smiled a genuine smile for the first time since he'd placed that box in her hand.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Wilson sat beside House on the bench in the waiting area across from Mrs. Quigley's room. He offered his bag of chips to House, who took one and ate it silently. The two men sat sharing the chips quietly, as nurses and patients passed in front of them.

"I never even considered Lassa fever," House finally said.

"Why would you?" Wilson asked. "She had no known exposure."

"I'm supposed to find out the unknown things," House replied morosely. This case, which was supposed to help distract him from brooding, was turning out to be exactly what he didn't need. Just one more thing he'd screwed up.

"And if you could do it all yourself then you wouldn't need a team," Wilson said pragmatically. House shrugged. Wilson studied him. "They've come up with the diagnosis before and it hasn't bothered you like this. What's different this time?"

House looked down the hall, not wanting Wilson to have even a glimpse of his profile. He'd heard Wilson's theories on this enough times in the past; he didn't need a repeat now. He rubbed his thigh, careful to make it seem more like an annoyed gesture than an attempt to relieve pain.

House returned his gaze to his sneaker tops, and Wilson studied him again. He was brooding, an art he'd mastered long ago. The trick now for Wilson was to decipher what he was brooding about. Partly about this diagnosis, but that was really only a symptom. What was the deeper problem? Wilson could only imagine it was Allison.

"He lost out on the opportunity to be stunned by the omniscient Greg House?" Wilson asked. House rolled his eyes. "So he solved one. He'll miss a dozen that you won't. More." Wilson paused, taking one more chip from the bag and handing it to House. "Quit brooding about her. She loves you, you know it. You scared her and she backed off. Are you going to tell me you can't understand that?"

House dropped his gaze from the chips to the patch of carpet where the tip of his cane currently rested. Wilson left House to think things over. Abandoning the chips, House leaned back against the wall and stared at the ceiling, gently rocking his cane left to right. Wilson was right. Again. Funny how he could be so spot on about what was going on in other people's relationships and still be so blind to problems in his own. House smirked. Cameron would say he couldn't see the forest for the trees. The smirk faded, and he rubbed his thigh just a little harder than last time.

* * *

Chase grinned as Jasper flopped exhaustedly on his couch. He'd been having a good week in the NICU, four discharges and no deaths. Jasper, along with Price and Foreman, had been running herself ragged trying to diagnose Mrs. Quigley. She'd barely had time to tell him she didn't have time for lunch. Each night for the past five days he'd listened to their progress on the case, from chronic fatigue to leukemia, lyme disease and finally lupus. He hoped today had brought some better news.

"Long week?" he asked sympathetically. Jasper just moaned. Chase grinned again. He remembered weeks like that working for House. And although the NICU could be more emotionally draining if you let it, it was certainly physically a lot easier. The lack of breaking and entering a patient's house alone was a benefit. "So?"

Jasper raised an eyebrow at him knowingly. He could pretend all he wanted that he was glad he'd moved to the NICU, and she knew on many levels he was. But she also knew a part of him, however small, missed working for House. Well, maybe not missed working for House but missed the work itself. He always wanted to hear about her day, their patient. She knew it was partly just him being interested in her, but also partly being interested in the cases. She'd put that little bit of interest to work, and he knew better than to question her about her day without first giving her what she wanted.

Chase scooted closer on the couch and gathered her up in his arms for a long, warm hug. After which she turned her back on him and he began massaging the tension from her shoulders. He had good hands, strong but gentle when necessary. She'd been amazed when he'd first done this for her, and it had soon become an evening ritual.

"So?" Chase repeated.

"Lassa fever," Jasper said. She'd expected a reaction to that, and wasn't disappointed. His hands stopped in surprise. "Rob?"

"Sorry," Chase muttered, and continued massaging her neck. "How did House come up with that one?" Chase asked. He would never have gone to Lassa fever.

"He didn't," Jasper said, saving the best part for last and drawing it out for maximum effect. "Price did."

"Huh," Chase said. He wondered how House would react to that. He normally made quite the show of diagnosing their first patient when a new fellow came on board. Then again, a fellow who could out-diagnose him on the first case was certainly interesting. However House reacted, Chase was pretty sure it wouldn't be good for Price. Poor bastard.

* * *

House flipped his cell phone shut and sat at the conference room table, vigorously rubbing his thigh. Hopefully he'd be able to get some relief tomorrow. Staring at the whiteboard, where Price had rewritten Mrs. Quigley's symptoms, his curiosity got the better of him. He went to the shelf in the back and took down an older text, one he himself hadn't looked at in years. Dropping the hefty medical tome on the table, he sat once more and quickly flipped to page 897. Glancing between it and the whiteboard he formed a theory.

"Interesting," House said.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Cuddy sighed deeply as she stood in front of her closet. Wilson approached her and slid his arms around her barely expanded waist, letting his hands rest on the small bulge of her abdomen. Cuddy's eyes slipped closed and she inhaled his aftershave, grateful her morning sickness had finally passed.

"Lisa, you're beautiful. Stop sighing at the pencil skirts and put on the maternity clothes," Wilson said softly in her ear.

"I've gained twelve pounds already," Cuddy whined.

"And you were probably five pounds underweight to begin with," Wilson argued.

"I'm going to be such a cow by the time the baby comes if I keep this up," she replied.

"But you'll be my cow," Wilson said, earning him a smack on the arm.

"You've been friends with House too long," Cuddy chastised him. She knew he was right, and she was being ridiculous. The morning sickness may have passed, but the hormonal craziness had not.

"So says my wallet every day around lunch time," Wilson joked, kissing her neck softly before releasing her. "You're going to be late for work, and then you'll only feel guilty and more miserable."

Cuddy sighed one more time before reaching into the closet and taking out the maternity dress she'd bought. She laid it on the bed and removed her robe. As always, Wilson's breath caught a little when he saw her. His eyes were immediately drawn to her stomach, previously flat and taught, now pleasantly rounded to accommodate his child. He'd heard people talk about the beauty of a pregnant woman, but had never really understood it until it was his woman.

"Jimmy," Cuddy said, her voice muffled slightly by rustling fabric as she slid her dress over her head, "what's going on with Allison and House?"

Wilson's hands fumbled as he tried to knot his tie. So far he'd been able to keep his mouth shut about House's proposal. He knew he couldn't lie to Lisa. Not only because he knew lying to women about House had been a pitfall of his previous relationships, but also because Lisa had an uncanny sixth sense that enabled her to detect a lie before it was fully out of his mouth.

"He asked me not tell anyone," Wilson said, hoping this might buy him a day or two. Cuddy flashed an impatient look in his direction and he sighed, once again deciding House's cane was less scary than her hormones. "Alright, but Allison told you, not me. I've still got bruises from the last time I let one of his secrets slip," Wilson said, taking a good long pause. "He proposed."

Cuddy frowned deeply. "James, that makes no sense. She's been miserable this past week."

"She told him she wants to think it over," Wilson divulged.

"Is his insanity contagious?" Cuddy barked. "What's to think about?"

Wilson shrugged. "She's been avoiding me like the plague. Maybe you could …."

"I already tried, she's just as close-mouthed as he is," Cuddy said. Slipping her feet into her low-heeled shows, another unfortunate concession to her pregnancy, she stepped around the bed and kissed Wilson. "Thank you for not being like that."

"I couldn't even if I tried. Stubble looks terrible on me," Wilson said easily, grinning as Cuddy rolled her eyes. Maybe Jimmy was more like House than she thought.

* * *

House called Price into his office in the early afternoon and told him to take a seat. He checked his watch quickly, making sure he wouldn't be late for his appointment. Confident he had enough time to confirm his theory; he pulled out Mason's Guide to Infectious Diseases and opened it to page 897.

"Nice little parlor trick there, Price," House said, laying the open book on his desk for Price to see.

"Parlor trick?" Price asked.

"You have a photographic memory," House said. Price nodded and shrugged. "Pity it makes your diagnosis less impressive."

"I doubt Dr. and Mrs. Quigley would agree with that assessment," Price fired at House defensively.

"Temper, temper," House scolded. "Less impressive, yes. But, it definitely makes you interesting."

"Thank you, I think," Price said a little uncertainly.

"I suppose it's lucky for us you decided to read this particular text," House said a little bitterly, still slightly annoyed at being shown up by the new guy.

"Lucky for Mrs. Quigley it was Lassa fever and not Marburg virus," Price replied.

"Why's that?" House asked.

"I've only read through L," was Price's reply.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Foreman hesitated before pushing open the door to Cameron's portion of the administrative offices. Things had still been a little awkward at times between them, but he really needed some advice from a woman and he didn't know who else to ask. He might have asked Jasper, but this wasn't something he wanted to get back to Chase just yet.

"Hey Cameron," Foreman greeted her.

"Hey Foreman," Cameron replied, removing her glasses as she looked up from her computer. "What can I do for you?"

"I need a little advice, and to be perfectly honest there's not another woman I could really ask," Foreman said.

"Wow, Foreman, that's really touching. I think I might cry," Cameron replied bitterly, and Foreman rolled his eyes in frustration. He stood to leave, but Cameron stopped him. "Wait, Foreman, I'm sorry. I'm not really annoyed with you, just annoyed. What do you need?"

"It's about Rae," Foreman said. "Marcus and Nichelle and the kids are coming to visit in a couple of weeks, and I'd really like her to meet them. But I'm afraid it's too soon; I don't want to scare her off."

Cameron closed her eyes and thought for a minute. Well, she was certainly in a unique position to give him this sort of advice right now. She thought about what she would have liked House to have said or done to give her at least some indication his proposal was real, and not a knee-jerk jealous reaction to someone asking her out.

"Why don't you just mention to her that you've got family coming to town?" Cameron suggested. "You'll be able to tell a lot from her reaction, and if you end up deciding to ask her about meeting them, it won't be a total shock."

Foreman nodded. "Thanks Cameron." He stood again to leave, but once more Cameron stopped him.

"Foreman, maybe you could help me out with something?" Cameron asked.

"Sure. You need a consult?" Foreman asked.

"Not exactly," Cameron grinned. Foreman looked worried; it was really scary how much she could look like House when she was scheming. "Relax, it's nothing illegal. I just need a small diversionary tactic."

"Uh huh," Foreman replied. "And you need a diversion in order to…"

"That's not really important. I just need a twenty minute head start getting out of here on Friday," Cameron said, as if it would really be that simple.

"A head start on House?" Foreman asked. Cameron nodded. "And how do you propose that I detain House here for twenty minutes, on a Friday no less?"

Cameron shrugged. Foreman nodded his agreement; he was sure he could come up with something. He stood to leave and was nearly through the door when Cameron's voice stopped him for a third time.

"You could always steal his bike," she suggested cheekily. Foreman just looked at her. House was such a bad influence.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

House limped into his office and sat carefully in his chair. He noticed a message on his desk in Jasper's handwriting that was marked URGENT in large red letters. He read it and grimaced, his appointment had been cancelled due to an emergency. He would have to call and reschedule. Groaning, House picked up the phone and dialed the extension.

"Dr. Jessup's office," a female voice answered pleasantly.

"This is Dr. House. My appointment has been cancelled," House grunted, annoyed. "Again."

"I've been expecting to hear from you Dr. House. When are you available to reschedule?"

"Funnily enough, I'm available at the time of my appointment. I was also available at the time of my first appointment. Did I mention this is the second time I've been rescheduled?" House growled.

"I'm sorry, Dr. House. I understand how frustrating that must be. Dr. Jessup was called away on an emergency consult in Wyoming and won't be returning until next week. He insisted that we schedule you at your earliest convenience when he returns, what day is best for you?"

"What's best for me is to keep the appointment I had scheduled for today," House barked. Then he sighed. This was not helping and he did not want to piss off the woman who was going to get him the appointment. "Judy, right?"

"Yes, that's right," Judy answered, pleased that Dr. House had remembered her name.

"Judy, I will take the first available appointment you have," House said through clenched teeth.

"That will be Tuesday at 10am," Judy answered.

"Fine," House said and hung up without thanking her. No need to be nice now that his appointment was scheduled. He just hoped it wasn't going to be a waste of his time.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: The song lyrics in this chapter are from Cleo Brown's 'Did You Mean It?', which, like House, I do not own. More's the pity.**

Chapter 8

When House awoke on Friday morning to find several inches of snow on the streets he contemplated calling in sick for work. But sitting at home alone all day, even with Steve's company, meant dwelling on things he'd rather avoid thinking about. Snow meant no bike, and his leg in the cold meant no driving himself. Sighing, he reached for his cell phone on the nightstand and flipped it open. He dialed Wilson's number.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes, get out of bed," Wilson answered.

"And good morning sunshine to you too," House grumbled.

"Ha. I'm serious, I have early patients so if you're not dressed when I get there I'm not waiting," Wilson warned.

"You always say that, and you always wait," House said knowingly.

"Not today," Wilson said, and hung up. Something about Wilson's tone made House reconsider. Not wanting to lose his ride, he grudgingly got out of bed and dressed. When Wilson arrived, he was tapping an impatient rhythm on his kitchen counter while waiting for the coffee pot to finish.

"Let's go," Wilson said.

"Five minutes," House said.

"Two," Wilson replied.

"Three and a half," House offered.

"I'll buy you a coffee on the way if we can leave right now," Wilson countered.

"Done," House said, grabbing his cane and limping toward the door. Donning his jacket, he turned to Wilson. "I love a 'Pretty Woman' moment, don't you?"

* * *

When Foreman saw House and Wilson enter the hospital together that morning he groaned. He'd decided as soon as Cameron asked him to distract House to simply steal his keys and hide them somewhere unexpected. He could count on at least ten minutes while House searched around his office and probably another five while he interrogated himself, Jasper and Price. Cameron would have had her twenty minutes easily. Obviously, House had gotten a ride with Wilson. Stealing Wilson's keys was not tops on his priority list, but Foreman thought he might be able to persuade Wilson to _lose_ his keys.

"Dr. Wilson," Foreman called. "Can I have a minute?"

* * *

"Damn where are my keys?" Wilson muttered in frustration. He pawed through his briefcase thoroughly, knowing that attention to detail was the key to fooling House. "Did you swipe them?" Wilson asked House accusingly.

"Jimmy, I'm hurt," House replied, leaning against the door frame of Wilson's office. "And as much fun as it is to watch you search for them, staying here late on a Friday just isn't worth it."

"Well, if you want to get out of here, you'd better start looking," Wilson said, turning his back on House to hide the grin that kept threatening. House would never find them, as they were currently residing in Foreman's pocket, to be released to the nurse's station downstairs no earlier than 5:30.

* * *

House dropped his bag inside the front door and cocked his head to the right. On his coffee table were two cartons of Chinese food, a six pack of beer and his stereo remote control, each with a post-it note attached. Raising an eyebrow, House limped around the couch and sat down. The notes read 'Eat Me', 'Drink Me' and most interesting 'Play Me'. Reaching out, House withdrew a beer from the six-pack; it was still cold. This was obviously Cameron's handiwork and House was a little worried. Looking the table over very carefully, he didn't see a ring box. Relaxing slightly, he picked up the remote for the stereo and pressed play.

A light piano tune began to play, and House was puzzled. As Cleo Brown's voice filled the apartment, House grinned. He knew Cameron hated jazz, and he wondered briefly how many hours she had spent searching for this particular song. Pleased that she'd taken so much effort, he leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes, listening to the music ask him the question she couldn't voice herself.

_Did you mean it?_

_When you made that mischief dance in your eyes_

_Did you mean it?_

_When it ended in a kiss_

House knew Wilson was right again. She was feeling unsure, and he was beginning to realize why. When she'd asked him why, he had told her he'd heard Price asking her out. She must have thought this was just a jealous reaction; she was afraid he would regret his decision.

_And did you mean that remark_

_That you whispered in the dark_

Snatches of the lyrics floated through House's own thoughts. She wanted reassurance that she could trust him.

_Did you mean it?_

_When you held me while a night drifted by_

_Did you mean it?_

_Hope you did 'cuz so did I_

Smiling now, House sat forward and grabbed the notes from the food and the beer and tossing them to the side. When he grabbed the one from the remote, he noticed writing on the reverse side. Turning it over, he saw three little words that summed up everything she wanted from him. "Let me in'.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Cameron waited patiently all weekend to hear from House. By Monday morning, she was a wreck. She had barely slept Sunday night at all, now incredible anxious that Wilson had been wrong and House really was regretting his decision to propose.

When she arrived at work on Monday, she eagerly checked her desk and the rest of her office, her email and her regular mail for some message from House, only to be disappointed. Forcing herself not to overreact, she resolutely began plugging away at the mountain of paperwork slowly building on her desk. One thing this job had given her was an appreciation of just how hard Cuddy worked. Cameron really couldn't imagine how she had managed all of this and put up with House for all these years.

Cameron consulted on two or three immunology cases, and worked two hours in the clinic treating easily a dozen patients with colds and flu. When five o'clock came and she'd still not hear from House, Cameron shut down her computer and went home.

By Tuesday morning, Cameron was insufferable. Cuddy briefly considered sending her home, but rejected the idea when Cameron began attacking the stacks of backlogged charts that had been discovered in pediatrics. Productivity outweighed her compassion.

* * *

House lay inside the MRI and fought the urge to fidget. He'd sent hundreds, no thousands of patients for this test in his career, and been through it himself on more than one occasion, but he still hated it. It reminded him much too vividly of being forced to sleep in closets and tool sheds as punishments when he was a boy. For the past few years Wilson had performed this test for him; Wilson knew House hated the MRI and always managed to keep the mood light. House was really missing that this time.

"Just a few more minutes, Dr. House," a pleasant but anonymous voice announced.

"That's what you said a few minutes ago," House muttered.

Once the test was complete, House redressed, thankful as ever to be out of those awful gowns, and walked to Dr. Jessup's office. He checked his watch, 9:56. At least he wouldn't have long to wait.

"Judy," House addressed the receptionist. "Could you please page Dr. Cameron in the administration office and ask her to come here for a consult?"

"Dr. Jessup didn't request any consulting physicians for your appointment, Dr. House," Judy replied, confused.

"I want the consult," House explained as patiently as possible. "I need someone to explain all the big doctory words to me." Judy frowned, but did as she was asked.

* * *

Cameron scowled at her pager. Why would Dr. Jessup be calling her for a consult? He was a surgeon, and as far as she knew none of her immunology patients were having surgery for anything. Certain it was a mistake, but not wanting to make waves, Cameron reluctantly abandoned her dwindling pile of charting distractions and made her way to Dr. Jessup's office.

"Dr. Cameron, they're waiting for you inside, go ahead in," the receptionist told her when she arrived.

"Do you have any idea why Dr. Jessup paged me for a consult?" Cameron asked her.

"Oh it wasn't Dr. Jessup, it was the patient," the receptionist told her.

Cameron nodded. One of her immunology patients must be having surgery for something she wasn't aware of and wanted an opinion. Cameron straightened her lab coat and opened the office door.

"Dr. Jessup?" she asked.

Dr. Jessup waved for her to come in and have a seat with one hand while holding the phone to his ear with the other. Cameron stepped fully into the room and was aghast when the patient seated across from Dr. Jessup turned to face her.

"House?"


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Cameron sat to House's left as he resettled himself. Bent forward, with his chin resting on his cane, House avoided Cameron's inquisitive gaze. Finally Cameron leaned closed and whispered, trying not to disturb Dr. Jessup's phone call.

"What are we doing here?"

"You wanted in," House said. "This is it."

Cameron was about to question his meaning when Dr. Jessup hung up the phone and cleared his throat. Leaning back from House, Cameron straightened in her chair and gave Dr. Jessup her attention.

"Dr. Cameron, I'm not sure how much Dr. House has filled you in on this, but I've got a very tight schedule today so I'm afraid we'll have to just jump right in. Dr. House can fill in the missing pieces for you himself," Dr. Jessup had taken a patient file from his desk while speaking and withdrawn MRI images, which he now stood and placed on the light board. "Dr. House, I've reviewed your MRI and unfortunately you're correct, there is some definite nerve degeneration. At this point, it doesn't meet the requirements for my surgical trial."

House closed his eyes in disappointment. When he'd heard that Dr. Jessup had decided to run his surgical trial at Princeton-Plainsboro, he'd leapt, figuratively speaking of course, at the chance to join. Anyone who knew House knew he'd never been one to shy away from experimental treatments. Normally he used them on patients, but in this case he'd been eager to participate himself.

"The trials will be ongoing for at least four or five months. With your permission, I'd like to monitor your leg for signs of further degeneration. I'd also like to take over your pain management regimen so we can more closely monitor its severity. You're just barely outside our criteria. While I wouldn't wish further nerve degeneration and pain on anyone, even a minor change in your condition could qualify you for the trial," Dr. Jessup explained.

House looked at Cameron, who was unusually quiet. Cameron, unlike House, was less comfortable with experimental treatments. She understood the importance of research, naturally. But she also felt that patients who participated in clinic trials were often there because they had run out of options. It saddened Cameron to know that House considered radical surgery his only choice. It also saddened her that his pain had been increasing to this point and she hadn't noticed.

Cameron finally met House's eyes. He seemed to be waiting for her to give an opinion. She wasn't even sure what the trial was that Dr. Jessup was running but if it was this important to House then it was important to her too. She also realized that she'd made a decision. She nodded. House turned and nodded to Dr. Jessup.

Dr. Jessup handed Cameron a file outlining the clinic trial he was running. Engrossed in the details of his treatment, which involved the removal of damaged nerve endings and grafting over the remaining areas to cut off the nerve pathway sending pain signals, Cameron was only peripherally aware of House and Dr. Jessup discussing pain management options while House was being monitored for admission to the trial. Cameron sensed rather than saw House tense and focused in on the conversation.

Dr. Jessup was proposing the use of a fentanyl patch for pain. Although his doses would be carefully monitored, Cameron understood completely why House would be uncomfortable with any narcotic treatment. It was just too easy to slide back down that slippery slope. She reached out and squeezed his hand. House nodded at her and squeezed back before releasing her hand and telling Dr. Jessup he was a recovering addict and would prefer not to use a narcotic prescription. They finally settled on a gabapentin and amitriptyline combination.

Standing in the hall outside Dr. Jessup's office, gripping the information Dr. Jessup had given her like a life preserver in a maelstrom, Cameron waited while House made a follow up appointment. He entered the hall and stood before her.

"Dr. House," Price called from the end of the hall. House gritted his teeth and frustration flooded his face. "Dr. House, excuse me. We have a patient. Good morning, Dr. Cameron."

"Thanks for the consult," House said quietly, and Cameron only nodded. What needed to be said was not for an audience.

* * *

Hours later, well past the time when Cameron would have gone home, House finally returned to his office. Their patient was stable, for the moment, and House was exhausted. Foreman, Jasper and Price had just gone home and House felt, although he would never admit it, they had done well today. They still didn't have a diagnosis, but not for lack of trying. Too bad Price hadn't read any text books on metabolic disorders.

House limped into his office slowly and stopped just inches inside the door. His eyes were drawn to it immediately. It was only about an inch square. Just a small black box, sitting innocuously in the middle of his desk. But that small black box currently captivated his attention in a way that little else ever had. He stood and stared at it for fully two minutes, almost as though he were waiting for it to do something. He slowly limped through the room, around the desk and to his chair, where he settled himself and leaned forward, never once taking his eyes off that box.

He was stunned, and House was rarely stunned. Maybe he was just a little too damaged for even Cameron to handle. He reached his right hand out with painstaking care and let it hover over the box momentarily. Touching it would mean it was really there, and its presence made her decision real. He closed his eyes and cursed his damn, stupid cowardice. He opened his eyes and lifted the box from the desk gingerly. At that moment, his computer dinged to indicate he had new email. It was enough of a distraction to tear his eyes from that cursed box since he'd entered the room. Glancing at the computer he saw his email was from Cameron.

House had never been dumped via email before, and he lamented the day when at least your 'Dear John' letter would be tear-stained and smell slightly of your lover's perfume. Switching the box to his left hand, House clicked open the email from Cameron, wondering what she would possibly type him that she couldn't say. There was no message, only an attachment. House clicked it open and music poured from the computer's speakers.

_Going to the chapel and we're gonna get married_

_Going to the chapel and we're gonna get married_

_Gee I really love you and we're gonna get married_

_Going to the Chapel of Love_

Laughing a slightly mad sort of laugh, House opened the box. It was empty.

**A/N: Sorry there was such a delay, I hate it when real life gets in the way of what's really important:) So I decided to post two chapters at once to make up for it. The lyrics in this chapter are from 'Going to the Chapel' by The Dixie Cups.**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

House reached into his coat pocket and withdrew his cell phone. Flipping it open, he dialed Cameron's number. It rang only twice before she answered.

"Dr. Allison Cameron-House speaking," she chirped.

"None of that hyphenation crap. You're mine and everyone is going to know it," House growled, feeling happier than he could remember feeling in years. He barely even noticed the throbbing in his leg as he grabbed his cane and began limping to the elevator.

"Uh-huh," Cameron replied. "How's your patient?"

"Alive," House answered shortly, now stabbing at the elevator buttons impatiently with the tip of his cane. "Where are you?"

"The Thai place you like, waiting for you to call," Cameron replied.

"Skip the food. How fast can you be at my apartment?" House asked, stepping inside the elevator that had finally arrived and jabbing the button for the lobby. "I'll be home in ten minutes."

"We have to eat," Cameron replied sensibly. "Besides, I've been standing here nearly two hours. If I don't order something they'll probably have me arrested for loitering."

"Fine, food then my place," House ordered, stepping into the lobby before the elevator doors had even finished opening.

"Anxious are you? We have the rest of our lives you know. Besides, I rented a movie for us," Cameron replied.

"We won't be watching it," House promised, his voice pitched low. He shivered as he stepped outside, not having bothered to button his coat before leaving the building. He reached his car and paused, hooking his cane in the crook of his elbow while he fished for his keys.

"Really? And I thought Naughty Nurses was your favorite," Cameron teased, wishing she could see the expression on House's face.

"You rented Naughty Nurses?" House asked, incredulous. He thought she must be joking; judging from the way she blushed at his endless stream of sexual innuendo he'd assumed her to be uncomfortable about sex outside the bedroom.

"I thought maybe we'd be inspired," Cameron purred.

"You win, food and a movie," House said, grinning at the throaty chuckle this elicited on the other end of the phone.

* * *

House took longer than expected in getting home, due to a traffic accident a mile from his apartment. Nearly dancing with anticipation, he limped as quickly as possible to his front door and threw it open. Cameron was waiting for him, wearing her 'Property of Gregory House, M.D.' t-shirt and a pair of his boxer shorts. He had never seen anything quite so beautiful in his entire life.

He limped to her slowly, and took her left hand in his right. Lifting her hand to his lips, he lightly kissed the ring she now wore, and she smiled. House turned Cameron's hand over and kissed her palm. Continuing up her arm, he dropped light kisses on her skin until he reached her shoulder. Then lifting his head slightly, he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

Cameron blushed, as she always did when he spoke to her in that growling sort of whisper. He'd assumed, incorrectly, that she blushed with embarrassment. She blushed with heat and desire. She wasn't sure he had any idea that equal to how much she loved him was how much she wanted him. Tonight, she intended to be certain he got the message. Turning her head to the left, she caught his earlobe between her teeth and bit down lightly, an action she knew he loved. Having gained his full attention, she whispered back to him in words that caused a blush to rise on House's cheeks, as well as causing a rise in other areas.

Forgetting the food and the movie, House dropped his cane on the floor and gripped Cameron's slender hips. Making his way slowly, partly to avoid hurting his leg but mostly to draw out the building heat between them, he walked toward his bedroom. They continued kissing and whispering to each other down the hall, until they reached the bed. As the back of Cameron's legs hit the side of the mattress, the phone began to ring.

"Ignore it," House said and for once Cameron was willing. She quickly unbuttoned his shirt and removed it, not for the first time annoyed at his insistence in layering his clothing. Impatient now, she pulled his t-shirt off over his head and reached around to trail her nails lightly over his back. Groaning, House barely noticed as the answering machine in the living room picked up.

'_If I wanted to talk to you I would have answered the damn phone.'_ Beep.

"Greg dear, it's your mother," her voice wafted into the bedroom.

House groaned, in frustration rather than passion and rested his forehead on Cameron's shoulder. Nothing put a damper on an amorous mood quite like your mother's voice, regardless of how old you were.

"I haven't heard from you dear and I'm beginning to worry. I'm sure you wouldn't have actually gotten married today without telling me, so I do hope this doesn't mean that she said no. Please call me and put an old woman's mind at ease, won't you? Goodbye dear."

House heaved out a sigh. He should have remembered the date and called his mother. He waited for Cameron to scold him. He didn't wait long.

"Greg, why would your mother think you were getting married today?" Cameron asked.

"She's a hopeless romantic?" he offered.

"Somebody is," Cameron muttered, amused. "How long were planning to ask me?"

"Few weeks," House replied, once more kissing her neck. He'd really rather have this conversation in the morning, or never.

"What took you so long?" Cameron asked, trying her best not to melt.

House shrugged and kissed his way up the side of her neck to her ear. He kissed her softly, letting his warm breath raise the hairs on her neck. Entwining his long fingers in her hair, he angled her face to his and kissed her deeply. She responded immediately, and when House heard that small hum in the back of her throat he knew there would be no further conversation.

Moments later the phone rang a second time. Neither House nor Cameron bothered to acknowledge it until the voice on the answering machine reached their ears.

"Gregory, this is your father."

Cameron tensed, and flopped back against the pillows. In utter frustration, House paused in his current task and let his head rest against Cameron's now bare stomach. If his mother had momentarily ruined the mood, his father was now almost certainly killing it.

"I just heard your mother leave what I'm sure is her fifth message on your answering machine. I don't what you're doing that's so important you can't pick up the phone and tell your mother when you're getting married, but I expect she'll be hearing from you soon."

Before his father could get any further along, House reached across Cameron and picked up the phone by the bed.

"Dad, I just walked in the door," he lied, and Cameron frowned at him. He sat up slowly, his neck and back tensing more with each word from the other end of the phone. Cameron, unable to hear the other part of the conversation, wondered what his father could be saying that made House look so tense and unhappy in the space of a minute.

"No Dad, I didn't forget. I just wasn't ready to talk about it until …" House hung his head resolutely. Cameron frowned again. This was not the House she knew. He looked like a little boy being scolded.

"She only said yes a few hours ago and I …" House now lifted his head to look at the ceiling, face contorted into a combination pout and scowl. "Yes, I'll talk to Mom."

Cameron scooted across the bed to kneel behind him and began to massage his now incredibly tense shoulders.

"Hi Mom. I'm sorry I didn't call you back sooner, we had a little delay in the proceedings here," House said, slowly relaxing now that his father's influence had been removed. He noticed Cameron's hands on his shoulders and relaxed further as she tried to work out the tension.

"Yes, she said yes," House said, rolling his neck from left to right and enjoying Cameron's hands on him. "No we haven't made any plans yet," House continued, as Cameron began kissing his neck and shoulders. "I'll call you as soon as we have something definite … I love you too." House hung up the phone.

"Everything okay?" Cameron asked him quietly.

"Fine," House lied. Cameron nodded, accepting his answer for the time being. She had the rest of her life to hear about his father, and she wasn't about to let him ruin their night together.

"Well, lets see if I can make it better than fine," Cameron whispered in his ear. More than happy to forget all about his parents, House turned and took her in his arms. Not once, but several times that night did Cameron make things better than fine.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Three paces into the lobby the next morning, Wilson fell into step beside House, who was making his way jauntily toward the elevators. Wilson noticed the extra spring in his limp and decided Lisa had been right. She had called him this morning, positive that something good must have happened from the smile on Cameron's face. She hadn't been able to get near her to see the ring or ask any questions, as Cameron had been called away for a consult, and she wanted details.

"Morning," Wilson said. "You seem … less miserable."

"Morning Jimmy. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, God is in his heaven and all is right with the world," House grinned mischievously, pressing the button for the elevator.

"Are you high?" Wilson asked him.

"High on life, my friend," House replied sunnily. Wilson already knew, of course, there could only be one reason for this unnerving happiness. The elevator doors opened and an elderly couple stepped out. The normally impatient House moved aside politely and watched them shuffle past with, dare Wilson think it, a hopeful expression.

Stepping into the elevators, Wilson quickly pressed the 'close door' button to avoid any other passengers. He'd been waiting years to have something this good to tease House about and he wasn't about to lose the opportunity.

"Dying to be alone with me, are you? Well, I can't blame you. Look at me. I am magnificent," House said smiling. He knew exactly what Wilson was doing and he didn't mind in the least. In fact, he was looking forward to it. Although shy before an audience, Wilson was actually quite humorous when he wanted to be. And he'd certainly earned this chance to have a little fun at House's expense. House wouldn't begrudge him that.

Wilson began by making rather a show of looking House up and down. At first, he merely glanced at him from the side. But, pretending to see something interesting, he turned his entire body to face House and really gave him the once over, craning his neck for effect.

"Want me to do a little twirl?" House offered.

Shaking his head, but still not speaking, Wilson stepped very close to House. Knowing full well that House knew exactly what he was doing, he decided the best way to rattle him was to get just a little too close and break that personal space boundary that House so carefully maintained. Now barely an inch apart, Wilson leaned in even closer to House's neck and sniffed, then stepped left and repeated on the other side. House looked at him askance.

"You," Wilson announced with an air of one having discovered something interesting, "had sex last night."

"What are you, a bloodhound? You can smell sex on other people now?" House asked.

"You were not alone, for a change," Wilson smirked. House rolled his eyes; Wilson was really playing this huge. "Brunette, young, very attractive." House frowned, Wilson pretended not to notice. "Your fiancé."

House grinned. He couldn't help it. He was actually enjoying their little game, and he wanted to play along but the grin just crept across his face and he couldn't control it. Wilson grinned back.

* * *

Foreman stormed into the conference room. He jerked his coat off and hung it roughly, then flung his bag into the corner. He flopped him self into the nearest chair and began drumming his fingers on the arm. Price and Jasper, seated quietly at the conference table, exchanged glances while deciding whether to poke the bear.

"Rough morning?" Price asked hesitantly. Foreman glared at him.

"Foreman, you okay?" Jasper asked with concern. Foreman turned to level a nasty look at her as well but she genuinely looked concerned. He folded.

"Rough night," he grunted. Jasper nodded. He looked about ready to explode, so she was sure he would keep talking if given the chance. "I asked her if she'd like to meet my family in a few weeks."

Price looked at Jasper. 'Girlfriend?' he mouthed. She nodded and he made a face. Foreman didn't seem to notice.

"She said four words that I don't ever want to hear from another woman's mouth as long as I live," Foreman said.

"And you're the daddy?" Chase asked from the doorway, smirking. He'd only caught that last bit and he wasn't aware of Foreman's mood.

"We need to talk." Foreman grumbled at him, the anger fading and leaving just the hurt evident on his face.

"Ouch. Sorry man," Chase said sympathetically. Foreman nodded and continued pouting. Chase turned to Jasper. "Did you ask him?"

"He's not in yet," Jasper replied.

"Yes he is," House said as he entered the conference room, Wilson following closely behind. "Chase, lovely to see you. Stick around for a few minutes; I've got an announcement to make."

"I've got to get to the NICU, my shift is starting soon," Chase said, more than puzzled by House's jovial mood. It was unnerving, like seeing Glinda the Good Witch kicking Toto.

"I'll call and let them know you're here and you'll be a few minutes late," House offered. Chase just stared, but wisely said nothing. Never look a gift horse in the mouth, right? House looked at Wilson. "Stay."

"Woof," Wilson said.

"Good dog," House smiled, and limped into his office.

* * *

Cameron entered her office with her hands in the pockets of her lab coat. She walked around her desk to sit down and Cuddy was in the door before her 'stunning little ass' was even in the seat.

"You seem much happier this morning," Cuddy noted. Cameron smiled reservedly, but before she could respond her phone rang.

"Dr. Cameron," she answered. She smiled again, and Cuddy was nearly blinded by its radiance. That could only mean one thing. "Yes … yes … all right." Cameron hung up the phone and turned to Cuddy. "Let's take a walk."

Cuddy nodded and Cameron stood. Reaching beneath the desk, she grabbed a bag from a local novelty store and walked through the clinic with Cuddy close on her heels. Cuddy began to ask her, but before she could get a word out Cameron shook her head. Cuddy would just have to wait.

They boarded the elevator and Cuddy smiled when Cameron pushed the button that would take them to the floor for the diagnostic department. She wasn't supposed to know about the proposal, so she couldn't very well congratulate her, but inside she was jumping for joy. She'd been thrilled when House and Cameron had finally started their relationship. She'd actually been afraid after Stacy left for the second time that House would never fall in love again and she couldn't be happier to have been wrong.

The elevator doors opened and the two ladies stepped out, Cuddy allowing Cameron to lead the way as if she didn't already know where they were going. They entered the diagnostic conference room to find a full house. Seating herself next to Wilson, Cuddy looked expectantly at House as Cameron joined him.

"I am pleased to say," House began, "that as of last night, Dr. Allison Cameron now officially belongs to me." Cameron smirked, not even annoyed at the terribly sexist way he'd decided to announce their engagement. She removed her left hand from the pocket of her lab coat and showed off the ring.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

House stayed as long as he could to listen to the congratulations. He shook hands with Foreman, Chase and Price when they offered, and then watched with inner amusement as they retreated to the opposite side of the conference table, knowing that not even his engagement was reason enough to chat. Wilson approached and House stuck out his hand instinctively to ward off the hug, but Wilson wouldn't have it.

"Fine, you can hug me, but keep your hands above the waist," House grumbled. Wilson smirked in that wry 'whatever you say House' way he had, and give him a quick, manly hug. House even half-hugged him back in a one-armed manner. House noticed a flash of greenish gray from the other side of the room and saw Chase handing Foreman what looked like a fifty-dollar bill.

House narrowed his eyes at the Aussie, but Wilson's knowing glance dispelled his anger. Given his history, House probably would have bet the same way. If asked a few months ago, he would have quickly and forcefully squashed the notion of him becoming a married man.

A prolonged 'aawww' from the ladies corner of the room pierced his ears like an ice pick through the forehead, so he unobtrusively motioned for Wilson to follow him into his office. As the door swung shut behind Wilson, House let out a sigh of relief. Too much glee in one place was bad for his mental health.

"So, I finally get to be the best man at one of your weddings?" Wilson asked cheerfully.

"One of my weddings?" House asked. "Did my name change to James Wilson while I wasn't looking?"

"Very funny. Did you ever consider giving up your medical license and taking that show on the road?" Wilson asked.

"Sure, but the groupies can be such a pain the ass," House snarked and Wilson smiled.

Before Wilson could reply, Cameron and Cuddy entered from the conference room. Cameron was carrying the bag she had brought, and House looked at her expectantly. She shook her head slightly, and turned the bag so he could read the name on the side. Recognizing it as a novelty store that carried, in addition to rubber chickens and whoopee cushions, a selection of 'adult toys', House nodded, all the while wondering what Cameron had purchased there and calculating the quickest way to get Cuddy and Wilson out of his office.

"Congratulations Greg," Cuddy said as she attempted in vain to dry her eyes. House nodded. "Now get down to the clinic, you owe me three hours."

"I just got engaged, I'm far too emotional to see clinic patients now," House whined.

"House, it's an engagement ring, not a get out of jail free card," Cuddy retorted. "Price tells me the latest treatment is working and your patient is improving so there's no excuse not to be there."

House nodded and shooed her away with his hand, eager to see what Cameron had bought him. Cuddy exited, and Wilson followed behind after giving Cameron a chaste and very quick kiss on the cheek under House's watchful eye.

"So, I bought you some presents," Cameron said, leaning against House's desk as she deposited the bag there.

"When did you go shopping?" House asked, curious. She certainly hadn't time last night, he remembered fondly to himself.

"I stopped before I came to work. You know," she drawled, "it's amazing the things you can accomplish when you don't sleep until noon."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," House said impatiently, gesturing his disapproval at her teasing him. "What'd you get me?"

Cameron smirked at him. She turned her back and House craned his neck from his chair to sneak a peek. She turned back and held something behind her, shielding it from his view. He rolled his eyes.

"Well, you seemed to enjoy the little massage I gave you last night. What little of it I was able to finish anyway, so I got you these," Cameron said, and from behind her back brought out a set of scented massage oils. House eye's lit up.

"Are they edible?" House asked hopefully and Cameron blushed, but nodded. "You said presents. What else?"

"This one's not as much fun," Cameron warned. House made a face. "Well, you gave me this beautiful ring and I love it and I want to show it to everyone who will look."

"How else am I supposed to tell every man who looks at you 'hands off'?" House questioned her. "I could have you branded, but then you'd have to walk around nude. Not necessarily bad for me, but you might catch a chill."

"Anyway," Cameron interrupted loudly, "I think you should have something that says to all the women who look at you 'hands off'. At least until you get your wedding ring."

"Right," House said dryly, lifting his cane. "I'm literally beating them off with a stick."

"Don't laugh. I've seen the way you flirt with the lab techs when you need something fast. And if I catch Nurse Katie from the clinic staring at your … assets… one more time…"

"I like a jealous Cameron. It's hot," House said.

"Here," she said without further preamble and handed him a jewelry box. House was surprised. He wasn't exactly the sort of guy who cared about this stuff, but he'd assumed that he would get to pick out his own wedding ring. "It's an engagement ring," Cameron explained.

House opened the box and laughed. No matter how many times he thought he had her figured out, she somehow always managed to through him for a curve. He would have expected all seriousness and gravity from Cameron over an engagement. The Gravedigger ring she'd bought him proved him wrong about her once again.

"You are just so cool," he said. Cameron laughed. High praise from Greg House indeed.

* * *

Later that afternoon, their patient on the mend, Jasper entered House's office. He was reclining in his oversized yellow chair with his headphones on and although he looked like he was sleeping, Jasper had been watching him and knew he was actually awake. Nobody at the hospital had ever seen him in such a good mood, rumor had it he'd actually smiled at a clinic patient, and she needed a favor. What better time to ask?

"Dr. House?" she tried once for good measure. She'd been told by Cameron that she should get used to his trying to ignore the world and that if she wanted his attention she should just grab it. Getting no response, she reached forward and removed one his earphones.

"If somebody's not dying they will be soon," he threatened her, one eye now open.

"I'd like to ask you for next Friday off," Jasper said.

"And I'd like for Cameron and Carmen Electra to be twin sisters who do _everything_ together," House replied. Jasper just rolled her eyes.

"Dr. House, I'm asking for next Friday off," Jasper stated forcefully.

"Why?" House asked.

"Why do you need to know?"

"Knowledge is power," House told her. She closed her eyes in frustration. It was like talking to all five of her brothers at once, and it was tiring. And just like dealing with her brothers, she decided it was just easier to give him what he wanted.

"Rob and I are going to visit my family," she told him.

"Meeting the family? Big step," House commented. Jasper just looked at him. "Fine, take the day but you'll be covering my clinic hours for the next week."

"Like I wouldn't be doing that anyway," Jasper retorted as she walked out the door.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Chase lay on his side; Jasper snuggled against him so that the top of head rested just below his chin. Chase quietly stroked her jet black hair, watching the moonlight shine against it as it moved and reflected how strange it was that this simple action made him so happy. Chase was no stranger to relationships, per se, but this was different in so many ways.

Chase had always dated a certain type of woman, high-maintenance, thin, blonde and generally vapid. Jasper was none of those things. In fact, she was exactly the opposite of everything that normally attracted him to a woman. She was down to earth, curvy to put it kindly, dark haired and utterly brilliant. Everything about her was such a contrast to his usual type that Chase sometimes marveled they'd ever gotten together.

Jasper stirred against him. His gentle stroking of her hair was making her sleepy, and she had dozed off for a few minutes. She breathed in deeply, taking in the scent of his aftershave and soap, and smiled. He was so much the opposite of what he appeared to be. She'd heard the nurses talking about him before they'd begun dating. She knew they thought was a pretty boy and a good doctor, but nothing special.

Jasper knew all those things were false. Chase was no pretty boy. His looks were just a part of who he was, but the implications that went with that label couldn't be further from the truth. At one time that might have been fair, or so he'd told her. But not now. He'd been hit hard when his father left him with nothing, but he got through it and was a better man because of it. He was brilliant, and threw himself into his work with a zealousness that impressed her. He was far from nothing special.

"Mikki?" Chase said, interrupted her thoughts. "Did you ask House about next Friday?"

"Mmm. He said its fine as long as I cover his clinic hours," Jasper replied.

"Like you wouldn't be doing that anyway," Chase snorted.

"That's what I said," Jasper said, smiling against his chest. She hesitated for a minute, unsure whether she wanted to bring this subject up again. "Rob, are you sure you really want to meet my whole family?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't," Chase said. "Do you not want me to meet them?"

"No," Jasper insisted quickly. "No. It's just, they're all going to be there. All my brothers and their wives, my parents, probably an assortment of aunts and uncles. It's going to be quite the crowd."

"Is this like a family reunion or something? Will I be intruding?" Chase asked. She seemed almost reluctant to have him meet her family. He knew it was a big step in a relationship, and he'd thought they were ready for it but maybe she didn't feel quite so strongly about him as he did about her.

"No, not that," Jasper answered slowly. She took a deep breath and let out a sigh. "I've never brought anyone home to meet them before. I mean a boyfriend. They're going to make a huge deal of it and I … I'm afraid they'll scare you off."

Chase smiled. She didn't want him to get scared off. That was good. He'd been obsessing over whether or not to say those three little words for days, but he'd thought maybe it was still too soon.

"I love you, Michael Jasper, and your family isn't going to scare me off," Chase said.

Jasper lifted her head out of Chase's chest and propped herself up on one elbow. She couldn't believe he'd just said that. She'd been toying with the idea of saying she loved him for over a week, but she'd been afraid it was too soon. When she had told him she was going to visit her family and he'd asked if he could join her she'd almost let it slip out.

"I love you too. And you may regret that you said that once you've met them," Jasper said, smiling now from ear to ear.

"Never. So you love me, huh?" Chase asked, grinning like a fool. Jasper nodded. "Show me." And she did.

* * *

Foreman sat on the couch in his living room, pretending to be completely engrossed with whatever was on the TV at the moment. He wasn't exactly sure who he was pretending for, it's not like there was anyone there to judge his performance. He just knew he wasn't going to give in and wallow in his misery that he was sitting home alone once again.

He sighed as he picked up the remote control and flicked through the channels. There was nothing on TV worth watching, and watching a really bad show or movie is only fun when you can crack jokes with someone else about how awful it is. He grinned, he and Rae had loved watching reruns of General Hospital on the Soap Network and picking apart the medical scenes. The grin faded quickly as he realized now the only person he knew who watched General Hospital was House. They certainly wouldn't be watching it together.

Glancing over at the clock on the wall, Foreman realized it was only nine o'clock. It was far too early to go to bed, but what else was there to do? Disgusted with himself, he jumped up from the couch and grabbed his jacket off the chair by the door. He'd go out and get a beer at the bar around the corner.

Ten minutes later Foreman was sitting on a stool at the bar and nursing a beer. Truthfully, he wasn't feeling much better than he had at home, but at least when House asked him what he'd done last night he could say he'd gone out instead of admitting he'd been home alone watching the walls.

"Foreman?" a voice said from behind him. Foreman turned and saw Price standing to his left. He had a beer in hand, and looked about as thrilled to be there as Foreman did. Foreman motioned for him to sit.

The two men began talking, and before long were laughing over med school pranks and bad date stories. Two hours later, Foreman glanced at his watch and realized with real regret that he'd better get home.

"It's after eleven, I've got to get some sleep," he said as he laid a twenty down on the bar and stood up to put on his jacket. Price did the same and the two men stared awkwardly at each other for a minute.

"I'm really glad we ran into each other," Foreman said.

"I'm glad as well. It's been a bit lonely here without a friend," Price said, shaking his head. "I even asked Dr. Cameron out for dinner a few weeks ago." He looked at Foreman and rolled his eyes. Foreman just looked back, unsure why Price thought asking Cameron out was so bizarre. Price looked at his shoes quickly and then to the door. "Maybe we could do this again sometime?"

"Sure," Foreman agreed. He put out a hand and Price took it. Surprising Foreman, Price leaned in and turned the handshake into a hug. Foreman hugged him back, and then nearly toppled over as he was positive he felt lips on his cheek. Before he could say anything, Price was out the door. Foreman looked around, confused. _Did I just agree to a date?_


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: I'd just like to take a moment to say thanks to everyone who reviews, especially Mongoose 187, chicagochicklett, GabbyAbby & KB22 (I hope I spelled those all correctly). You guys rock, and your comments are why I keep writing even when I don't really feel like it:)**

Chapter 15

Cameron arrived at work the next morning bright and early as usual to find Dr. Lindsay from immunology waiting for her. Cameron smiled politely at her as she laid down her bag and sat behind the desk. She'd never really cared for Dr. Lindsay, although she wasn't sure she had a rational reason for it. Lindsay was a good doctor, but was far too eager, in Cameron's opinion, to pass off interesting cases. Maybe it was just her years of working for House, but she could never understand Dr. Lindsay's reluctance to work on the really tough cases.

"So, Dr. Lindsay, what can I do for you?" Cameron asked as she leaned forward in her chair, certain she was about to get handed a case.

"Well, I have a file that I'd like for Dr. House to review and I was hoping you might take it to him," Dr. Lindsay said. Cameron nodded and hid her smirk.

"I'm happy to look it over if you'd like, but if it's a case for House you really should bring it to him yourself," Cameron said. She was hesitant to agree to bring House the case because she thought it would be setting a bad precedent. She didn't want all the doctors in the hospital bringing her all their tough cases just to avoid talking to House.

"Oh, well, you know," Dr. Lindsay stammered, "Dr. House is just so difficult to talk to and I'm sure it's a case he'd be interested in."

Cameron reached out and took the file that Dr. Lindsay offered. She would probably regret this, but she couldn't say she didn't understand where the other woman was coming from. Easily approachable were not words that would ever be used to describe House. She glanced at the file briefly and wondered if Dr. Lindsay was pulling her leg.

"It's bacterial meningitis. It's diagnosed. What exactly is it you'd like Dr. House to review?" Cameron asked, confused and slightly annoyed. She really didn't want to do this at all, and certainly not for something so simple.

"It's the history that's the problem," Dr. Lindsay said quickly.

Cameron frowned and looked back over the patient's history. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise when she realized was Dr. Lindsay was talking about. She nodded and Dr. Lindsay sighed in relief and hastily exited the office, lest Cameron should change her mind.

* * *

"Tie one on last night?" Jasper asked as Price slumped over the conference room table uncharacteristically.

"Pardon?" Price asked, the breath escaping his lips fogging the table.

"Tie one on, it means getting drunk," Jasper explained.

"Lovely expression, that," Price replied, and Jasper shook her head that even in sarcasm he was still so British. "I didn't intend to, but one of the nurses told me there was an Irish pub nearby that serves Boddingtons. I stopped in for a pint."

"Or a gallon," House quipped as he limped into the conference room from his office, red mug in hand. Jasper snorted in a very unladylike way, and Price attempted to roll his eyes. It was futile, as his head hurt far too much to complete the action. "I'd offer you some drugs, but I'm fresh out. Damn rehab."

"Yeah, such a shame you got clean. You were so much more pleasant when you were high," Foreman shot at House on his way in.

"You're late," House said in return.

"_You're_ late. _I_ was in the clinic," Foreman replied, forgoing his usual chair to sit beside Jasper. House noticed this, naturally, and filed it away for later pondering. Before he could comment, Cameron entered.

"Morning sweet cheeks," House said loudly. Cameron didn't respond. She knew by now that would only fuel the fire. Price knitted his eyebrows and let out half a groan. He abandoned it mid-way through; it also hurt his head too much.

"Hangover?" Cameron asked. Jasper nodded. "Got a case for you."

"Don't want it," House said immediately.

"Yes you do," Cameron replied. This was exactly the sort of case House loved. "May I?" Cameron motioned to the whiteboard. "They're going to be half mine anyway, right?"

"There's a line in the pre-nup about touching the markers," House warned. Cameron ignored him and wrote on the board. _Female, 11 years old, bacterial meningitis. _House looked at her expecting something more.

"Bacterial meningitis? I realize you've been out of my employ for a few weeks, but …"

House paused in his snark when Cameron wrote _'X 3'_. "Give me that," House said, sticking his hand out for the file. Cameron handed it to him, but didn't let go.

"Told you so," she said. House made a face at her and she laughed.

"This is impossible," Jasper said. "The recurrence of bacterial meningitis twice in the same patient is less than 2. Three times is unheard of. It has to be a mistake."

"No mistake. Her pediatrician had the first test run twice to make sure. The second time she ran it four times, from two different samples. Same thing this time. She thinks there's an autoimmune deficiency," Cameron said.

"She's probably right," House muttered. "Foreman and Price, start with the basics, blood work and another LP. Jasper, you get the history. I want you on the phone talking to everyone who worked on this kid before she got here, including lab techs."

The team broke, but not so quickly that House didn't notice Foreman's rush to clear the room before Price could speak to him. What was going on there?


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Hours later Foreman avoided meeting Price's gaze in the lab. Price, barely keeping his eyes open due to his hangover, didn't notice. Foreman was uncomfortable and frustrated. He didn't know how to act around Price suddenly. This was exactly why he avoided getting too close with co-workers in the past. It never worked out well. And there was still some lingering doubt in the back of Foreman's mind as to whether he'd imagined that light brush of lips against his skin. Foreman didn't like being unsure.

Jasper joined the boys in the lab. After spending the entire morning on the phone with various pediatricians, ER docs, lab techs and even an orderly, all Jasper had come up with was their patient had bacterial meningitis three times.

"Spectacular," Price said. "All the blood panels are normal, except for an elevated white count, which we already knew she'd have."

"What are we testing for?" Jasper asked, eager to jump in and do some actual work.

"Everything," House's voice said from behind them as he pushed the door to the lab open with his cane. "If you've heard of it, test her for it."

"House, that's insane," Foreman complained. "We can't test her for every autoimmune disease there is."

"Sure you can. You just don't want to," House scoffed, making a gesture that clearly said to Jasper and Price 'can you believe this guy?' "Little Brittany …"

"Brenna," Jasper interjected.

"Whatever. She'd be appalled at your unwillingness to work for her diagnosis."

"House," Foreman started, but Jasper interrupted.

"Why don't we narrow the field down a bit based on her symptoms?" Jasper asked.

"So far her only symptom is three cases of meningitis," Foreman said.

"Great, start with that," House said and limped out of the lab, leaving three very confused fellows behind.

* * *

"Negative ANA. It's not lupus," Price said from his station toward the rear of the lab.

"Of course not," Foreman muttered under his breath.

"Negative for HIV, too, thank God," Jasper said.

"This is ridiculous," Foreman finally burst out. "We're wasting our time here. We could run a hundred tests and not pick the right one. She's got no symptoms for us to go on."

"Foreman, you're brilliant," Price said, and Jasper had to bite back a laugh. He sounded just like those two guys from the Guinness commercials. "We should be testing her for the autoimmune diseases that can be set off from a primary infection."

"Reiter's," Foreman offered.

"Chronic fatigue?" Jasper asked.

"Chronic fatigue isn't autoimmune," Price argued.

* * *

"Chronic fatigue isn't autoimmune," Price reiterated from his seat in front of House's desk.

"It's called chronic fatigue immune dysfunction syndrome for a reason," Jasper snapped back.

"Because patients who have the diagnosis don't want people to think they're psych cases," Foreman said tiredly.

"Hey I know," House interrupted, swinging his legs off the desk to the floor. "Let's ask an immunologist."

"Dr. Lindsay was the referring physician," Jasper said.

"Oh no, we want the immunologist who said we'd take this case," House replied as he lifted the phone to his ear. "Page Dr. Cameron to my office."

"Like there's any doubt whose side she'll take," Foreman grumbled from his seat.

"I haven't taken a side yet, Foreman. Say, how's the girlfriend?" House asked.

"Go to hell House," Foreman replied.

"I don't miss that," Cameron said as she walked in from the hall.

"That was quick," House remarked.

"I was on my way to see you when I was paged," Cameron replied. "What's up?"

"Chronic fatigue," House said and tossed the file at her like a Frisbee. Cameron caught it without even registering surprise on her face. House thought briefly it was a good thing she'd taken that promotion with Cuddy. Once he wasn't able to surprise his fellows any longer, they'd probably learned all they could from him.

"Well, she doesn't have any of the classic symptoms," Cameron mused. "She hasn't been sick long enough to meet the diagnostic criteria and there are about a dozen other things that would have to be ruled out first for a definitive diagnosis. Sorry guys, I don't think so."

"See?" House said to Jasper. "The immunologist says you're an idiot."

"That's not what I said. Has anybody looked at her spleen?" Cameron inquired as she perused the file.

"What?" House asked.

"Spleen," Cameron said slowly. "If her spleen is compromised in some way it would slow down her immune system and make it easier for an infection like meningitis to spread."

House smiled. "You heard the lady, ultrasound Brianna's spleen."

"Brenna," Jasper said.

"Yeah, yeah," House waved her away.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: I know, this chapter is incredibly long. I don't want you to get too excited :) they won't all be like this from now on. There was just no good place to stop this one. **

Chapter 17

Jasper and Foreman approached Brenna's room where she and her parents were anxiously awaiting her test results. Jasper entered first, followed by Foreman who stood behind her and to the left. It was a pattern they'd fallen into when speaking to patients. Jasper usually dealt with children and anxious parents, with Foreman to back her up. The patients seemed comforted by her words and reassured by Foreman's quiet presence. In the reverse, Foreman normally spoke to adult male patients while Jasper smiled at them reassuringly. Sexist, maybe, but effective. Jasper quickly realized that her expertise in her field was no match for the idea that a 'woman doctor' wasn't as good. She didn't like it, but she was a realist and if it made the patient feel better to hear their results from a man, then a man would do it.

"Mr. and Mrs. Webber, Brenna, I'm afraid we don't have any answers for you yet. We'd like to have Brenna stay overnight for further observation. There are a few more tests we'd like to run in the morning," Jasper told them.

"More tests?" Brenna asked timidly. "Does that mean more needles?"

"No," Jasper smiled at her. "We just want to take some pictures."

"I have lots of pictures of me at home. You can have them," Brenna offered.

"Well, the pictures we need are special. They're pictures of your insides," Jasper explained, not entirely sure how specific to get with an 11-year old.

"You mean like an x-ray?" Brenna asked.

"Sort of like that," Jasper smiled at her. "Except instead of taking pictures of your bones, we're going to take pictures of your spleen."

"My spleen? What's that?" Brenna asked.

"It's an organ that's in your belly. It helps to make the special blood cells that fight infections. So we'd like to take some pictures of it to make sure it's working as hard as it can. If it's not, that might help us figure out why you keep getting sick," Jasper said. Brenna seemed satisfied with that answer.

"Can my mom stay here with me?" the girl asked, timidly again. She didn't want to seem babyish, she was eleven after all, but spending the night in the hospital on her own was a little scary. Mrs. Webber looked at Jasper and Foreman expectantly. She didn't want to leave her daughter.

"I'm sorry, hospital policy is to allow overnight visitors only for critical cases," Foreman said.

"I don't want to stay here by myself," Brenna said, her voice near tears.

"I'll see what I can do," Jasper assured Mr. and Mrs. Webber and gave Foreman an angry look.

* * *

Cuddy sighed as she sank into the sofa in the living room, letting the soft clink of Wilson's dish washing soothe her aching head. A normal day would never see Cuddy at home at six o'clock, but her days were no longer normal. She sighed again, unable to shed the low-grade guilt and anxiety she felt for leaving the hospital early. The only reason it was a low-grade guilt was her conscious effort to choose what was best for her baby; her actual baby, not the hospital, which had for so long been thought of and referred to as her baby.

Perhaps a few more months working with Allison would be enough to dispel the last of her guilt. Allison was an excellent doctor, and Cuddy was glad she'd accepted the offer of Associate Dean. Beyond her medical skills, she was a naturally organized and methodical person. A trait which had no doubt annoyed House on numerous occasions, but which made her perfectly suited for administrative work. Her propensity for trying to please people made her a hard worker and her youth gave her an energy that currently Cuddy envied. She knew it was the pregnancy that was taking its toll on her normal exuberance for life, but today she felt every day of her forty-something years.

Wilson entered the living room from the kitchen and sat beside Cuddy. He motioned with his hands and she lifted her tired feet, now freed from their leather prisons, to his lap. Wilson massaged her aching arches slowly, watching the last of the tension ease from her body as she leaned further and further into the cushions until she was lying down completely. He continued massaging until she'd fallen into a light sleep.

Wilson worried about her. Well, maybe worried about her was an understatement. It was really more like an intense obsession. He kept it carefully in check, something he'd mastered about three years into his friendship with House. If Wilson did have a blind spot for flaws within himself and destructive patterns of his own life it was more than outshined by his recognition of those things in the people he loved. Some would argue that too great an awareness of another's flaws was a bad thing, but Wilson would disagree. How else could you really love someone if you didn't see them for who they really were faults and all?

The awareness of Cuddy's patterns meant he knew she was really much more tired than she was letting on, even to herself. True, she'd begun coming home at a more reasonable hour, but compensated by eating lunch at her desk while working. She was pushing herself, and too hard. Like many driven people, Cuddy expected much more of herself than others expected of her. She wasn't unlike House in that way. Wilson's main problem now was trying to convince her that slowing down wasn't a sin, and doing what was best for herself and the baby was more important than anything else, even the hospital.

The ring of Cuddy's cell phone interrupted Wilson's thoughts. She stirred on the couch and Wilson pounced, grabbing the phone from the coffee table and rushing back into the kitchen.

"Dr. Wilson," he answered.

"Oh, Dr. Wilson. Uh, I was looking for Dr. Cuddy," said the woman's voice. "This is Dr. Jasper."

"She's … unavailable at the moment," Wilson said, stopping just short of telling Jasper that Cuddy was sleeping. She'd never forgive him. "Can it wait?"

"Well, it's not really an emergency. I just, I needed to get permission to let our patient's parents stay the night with her," Jasper explained.

Wilson sighed. This was, unfortunately, not something he had the authority to decide. Jasper was right, it wasn't an emergency, but it certainly couldn't wait until morning. He debated internally for about thirty seconds before the solution presented itself. Not from his own mind, oddly, but because he imagined House's voice chastising him for being such a coward. House. House with Cameron. Cameron!

"Call Dr. Cameron," Wilson instructed Jasper.

"Dr. Cameron?" Jasper asked.

"She's the Associate Dean. You're not looking for approval for any experimental treatments or procedures. She can handle it. Call her," Wilson said and hung up the phone before Jasper could protest any further.

* * *

Jasper hung up the phone and turned to Mr. and Mrs. Webber. The couple looked anxiously back.

"I'm going to have to contact the Associate Dean," she explained. "I don't know her contact information off hand, so if you'll just excuse me for a minute…" Jasper let her voice trail off as she backed out of Brenna's room.

"She's a scared little girl. Why is it so terrible that we'd like to stay with her?" Mrs. Webber demanded of Foreman, who had remained in the room. Foreman looked away uncomfortably; he'd been the one to remind Jasper that hospital policy only allowed visitors after hours for critical patients. As bizarre as this case was, it wasn't critical.

"It's hospital policy, and like it or not, we don't have the authority to override it," Foreman said again, not liking the angry way that Mr. Webber was clenching and unclenching his fists. Professional detachment aside, Foreman had promised himself when he caught himself on the receiving end of a punch from a patient or a family member that he'd become too much like House and should back off. "I'll just go and see if I can't help Dr. Jasper out."

He found Jasper just in the conference room, looking nervous. Price had joined her, which made Foreman nervous. Price, whose hangover had subsided somewhat and who was now merely exhausted, could sense the tension and became nervous as well.

"What's the problem?" Foreman asked.

"I can't reach Dr. Cameron," Jasper said. "I shouldn't have told those parents I could do this for them."

"You're right," Foreman said quickly. Seeing Jasper's annoyance increase, he checked himself again. "But you did, so let's get it done."

"I called her house, she's not there. I tried her cell as well; it just keeps going to voicemail. I left messages at both numbers," Jasper said.

"She's probably at House's," Price said practically. Jasper groaned. She didn't want to go back to the Webber's and tell them she couldn't get a hold of anyone, but calling House at home wasn't tops on her list of fun stuff to do.

Foreman grinned a little. He remembered the first couple of times he'd had to call House during the night. It was a little scary. Hell, House was a little scary. Calling him at home and then telling him it wasn't him you wanted to talk to? Jasper would be on his list in the morning.

* * *

House had informed Cameron long ago that he had a rule about answering the phone during the OC. Especially now, when he was watching the final episodes of his beloved series, the phone was strictly off limits. Cameron had argued, but he insisted, claiming that her annoying politeness in conversation made it difficult to concentrate.

So, when the phone began ringing during the episode House was playing from his TiVo, House glared at Cameron as if daring her to answer. Since nobody ever called for her at House's anyway, Cameron was happy to indulge this particular insanity.

_Leave a message. Or don't. Either way, I'm not calling back, _the answering machine played. Cameron rolled her eyes. For someone who didn't want anyone calling him, he sure spent enough time changing that message.

"Dr. House?" said a timid female voice. "This is Dr. Jasper calling. Um, I'm sorry to call you at home …"

Her voice was cut off from the machine as House picked up the cordless phone on the coffee table. From her seat at the desk behind him, where Cameron had been shopping for a new set of sheets and towels for House's place, Cameron could sense his scowl.

"She better be dying," House barked into the phone. There was a short silence. "Unh." House grunted and twisted around on the couch.

"Hey!" he shouted at Cameron. She turned just in time to catch the phone that he had hurled at her. Cameron frowned. Why on earth was Jasper calling her here?

"Cameron," she said into the phone. Cameron listed politely as Jasper explained the situation. Cameron sighed. She had been encouraging Cuddy to take it slower and easier on herself, but she hadn't realized it might mean that she'd be getting calls from the hospital. Not that this was exactly a life threatening decision or anything, but Cameron was still a little unsure of herself when it came to giving orders.

House was watching her now, sensing her unease. He had paused the TiVo once again, and when she met his eyes he made an impatient face. Cameron closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She knew what she would want to hear if she were the one on the other end of the phone, but she also knew the hospital policies were there for a reason. She didn't want to get a reputation for being a soft touch when it came to a favor. What would Cuddy think? What would House think?

"I'm sorry, Dr. Jasper, but the hospital policy is for patients only to have after hours visitors in critical cases. Brenna Webber is far from critical. Assure her parents that the nursing staff will check on her hourly," Cameron said into the phone, never opening her eyes. She didn't want to see House's approval or disapproval. This decision was hers. "Yes, my decision is final. Goodnight Dr. Jasper."

Cameron hung up the phone and chanced to open her eyes. House looked at her for a moment without comment, as if trying to decide what best to say. Cameron began to fidget; he had nothing to say? Impossible.

"So little Cameron finally grew up," House said. He meant it as a compliment. He was sure she would have caved to Jasper and let the parents stay. Probably would have offered to have dinner delivered and bring them a quilt.

Cameron didn't take it quite that way. To her, it sounded like House was mocking her. Probably because he thought she was taking the whole thing too seriously. Or because she'd backed up the hospital policy instead of striking out on her own and giving Jasper permission to break the rules.

"I've been grown for quite some time, thank you. Maybe you just never noticed before," she said frostily. Cameron turned her back to him and resumed her shopping, clicking the mouse perhaps just a little more emphatically than was strictly necessary.

"Well, I know you're all woman," House said, standing from the couch and walking to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. He only wanted to try to comfort her a little.

"Does everything have to be about sex with you?" Cameron exploded. She knew she was overreacting, but this was the first time she'd ever been called on in her capacity as an administrator and it made her nervous. House was being flippant and she was near tears.

"What?" House asked. He didn't understand what she was so upset about, but it was apparent nothing he said was going to make her feel better.

"Nothing," Cameron said. "I need some fresh air. I'm going out."

House stepped back, a little surprised. Then he became a little fearful. That was pretty much what Stacy said the last time they had a fight. Then one day he came home and she wasn't there.

"You coming back?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant and failing miserably, in his own mind.

Cameron, however, couldn't believe that he could be so indifferent to her feelings. Or maybe she was blowing this way out of proportion. If only he wasn't so hard to talk to.

"Night House," Cameron answered, not trusting herself to say more. She closed the door quietly behind her, leaving House to stare at it and wonder what the hell had just happened.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

House was tired when he arrived at the hospital the next morning. Tired House was not a happy House. He'd spent the first couple hours Cameron was gone determinedly not waiting for her to come home. Then he'd spent an hour examining every word that had passed between them, trying to decide where he'd gone wrong. Next he spent an hour filling the apartment with dark and melancholy piano pieces while he stewed about how unpredictable women were. Even Wilson didn't burst into tears and storm out on him for no reason. Finally, he'd poured himself a glass or six of scotch and wavered between his certainty that she'd be back any minute, eyes shining with tears and apologies tumbling from her lips and his almost equal fear that she'd mail him his ring from a post office near the airport while she skipped town so as never to have to see him again.

When he had finally chanced to look at the clock, it was 1am and he was half-drunk. Whichever way this was going to play out, it didn't look like it would be tonight. He dragged himself to his bedroom and lay down; telling himself it wasn't colder in his bed when Cameron wasn't there.

Foreman and Price were waiting for him when he limped into the conference room for a much needed cup of coffee. Price was seated at the conference table but Foreman was uncomfortably balancing his file on his knees in the chair in the corner of the room. While he filled his red mug and searched for the sugar, he noticed the seating arrangements and wondered what was going on. Time for little creative questioning.

"What's the word?" House asked, leaning his head toward the whiteboard.

"Ultrasound was normal," Foreman reported. "Jasper took her for a CAT scan."

"Parents still pissed?" House asked. He didn't really care, but he was hoping for a response from Price.

"Dr. Jasper stayed the night in Brenna's room," Price answered him. "There's no hospital policy about staff staying after hours and it seemed to make the parents feel better."

"Women," House scoffed and Foreman actually laughed. He hadn't dared laugh at Jasper the night before when she'd made the offer however.

"I think she just felt badly that she'd promised the parents something and couldn't come through," Price defended her. "It was the honorable thing to do, given the circumstances."

This time Foreman snorted derisively. Price merely chalked it up to their disagreeing over how the parents should have been handled, but House thought maybe there was something else to it. Had Price done something Foreman didn't think was honorable? _Must have been something,_ House thought. _He stole that article from Cameron. Where was the honor in that? What could Price have done?_

"Shower broken?" House asked Price.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Are you wearing African body powder?" House inquired next.

"What?" Price asked, completely confused. "Are you insinuating that I smell?"

"I'm just wondering why Foreman here is sitting a mile away when there are three perfectly good chairs here at the table," House demonstrated by sitting next to Price. "Foreman?" House swung his gaze in Foreman's direction dramatically.

"I just wanted a little space to think," Foreman said, but House wasn't convinced.

"I could believe you. But … you sat next to Chase and listened to him chew his pencils for years without a problem," House observed. "And Cameron's high pitched voice? That didn't bother you. So what could Price here possibly be doing that's so distracting?"

Jasper walked in from the hall with the CAT scan images. She took them wordlessly into House's office to place them on the light board and looked them over. Foreman and Price followed and House limped in behind them. Even in the midst of House's questioning, Foreman still took an extra step to Jasper's right to ensure his distance from Price.

"Does he hum? Drool? Pick his nose?" House persisted.

"Could we get off that please and try to figure out what's wrong with our patient?" Foreman asked, exasperated.

House rolled his eyes and made a face, but turned to look at the images before him. His brow furrowed as he looked more closely. Damn.

"There's nothing there," Price finally said.

"I know," House said quietly, mostly to himself.

"We've been through every autoimmune disease that makes sense. Her spleen is fine. So, there's nothing wrong with her?" Jasper asked.

"Something's wrong," House said. "We just don't know what it is."

Dejected, the team backed away from the images and scattered to various seats around House's office. House looked them over, each deep in thought, and decided to lighten the mood.

"On the bright side, Price smells great," House said. Jasper, who had missed out on most of House's earlier interrogation, looked at him in confusion. Price merely looked annoyed. But Foreman looked embarrassed, and House hit on a theory. An outlandish theory, but that was his favorite kind. "Or maybe that's the problem. He smells too nice. Spark an interest in you Foreman?"

"Hey, he's the one who kissed me!" Foreman shouted without thinking.

"Oh my God," Jasper gasped in shock.

"I most certainly did not!" Price leapt from his chair in outrage.

"Yeah, you did. At the bar the other night, when you were leaving, you kissed me," Foreman insisted.

"I … No … I didn't … Did I?" Price mumbled. Price blushed bright red. House was impressed; he'd never seen anyone impersonate a lobster before. Price sat slowly back down in his seat as his eyes danced wildly. He was obviously replaying the scenes from that night in his head.

"Too bad that photographic memory only applies to stuff you read. Might be helpful in a situation like this," House said, highly amused. This might even be better than the time Chase kissed that cancer patient. At least she was girl and she'd asked him.

"Foreman …" Price said, lifting his head and looking in Foreman's direction. "I'm so terribly sorry. There's just no excuse for my … I mean to say, it was highly inappropriate of me to … I never meant to …"

"Come on Foreman, we need details," House interrupted Price's bumbling attempts to apologize. "Are we talking a quick brushing of the lips or are we talking tonsil hockey?"

Jasper giggled and Foreman buried his head in his hands. He couldn't believe he'd let House goad him into saying that. He should have confronted Price about this privately before House noticed. And how foolish of Foreman to think for a minute that House wouldn't notice? The man noticed everything.

"It was just a kiss on the cheek," Foreman mumbled into his hands. Price let out an audible sigh of relief.

"Disappointed?" Housed asked.

"House, please…" Foreman pleaded with him.

"Sorry dude. I'm straight and taken," House said, flashing the Gravedigger ring in Foreman's direction.

"Foreman, I'm so terribly sorry to have put you in this position," Price began.

"There were positions?" House asked, and Jasper giggled again. Foreman and Price shot her an angry glare and she pulled a serious face. "Price, there's nothing to be ashamed of. Foreman's a very attractive guy. But you might have better luck with Kevin in bookkeeping."

"I'm not gay," Price said emphatically.

"Says the guy who kissed Foreman," House said to Jasper, who managed to cover her giggle with a cough.

"I'm not gay!" Price insisted. He looked to Jasper for help, but she merely shrugged her shoulders. He glanced quickly at Foreman, but realized he was an unlikely prospect to help Price prove he wasn't gay. It was at this unfortunate moment that Chase walked in from the hall to ask Jasper if she would be free for lunch later.

Price, now desperate for any way to prove he wasn't gay, only saw a lab coat and longish blonde hair. Not thinking, he grabbed whoever it was and planted a good hard kiss on their lips. Stepping back and hoping that this would satisfy everyone, he realized with something like horror that he'd just kissed Dr. Chase. Chase, for his part, looked absolutely stunned.

House and Foreman looked at each other. House, who had been holding in his laughter to share with Wilson when he recounted this scene to him later, was now laughing out loud. It was something Foreman had never heard before and despite his embarrassment, or perhaps because of it, he found himself joining in.

Jasper managed to suppress her laughter long enough to pose a question.

"Rob, is there something you want to tell me?" she asked before her laughter joined that of Foreman and House as it echoed through the halls of PPTH.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Once the laughter had subsided, House had ordered the team out of his office so he could think. Foreman picked up House's PSP from atop the bookshelf and tossed it to him, knowing House rarely 'thought' without some type of distraction. He'd never really understood it himself, but he likened it to studying with the radio on. The distraction forced you to focus harder.

The three of them had retreated into the conference room to begin researching cases of recurring bacterial meningitis. Jasper was greatly annoying both Price and Foreman by letting unprompted giggles escape her now and again, but otherwise they worked in silence.

House's fingers were just beginning to cramp when a familiar rumbling announced it was lunch time. Grabbing his cane from the desk, he limped down the hall to Wilson's office only to find it empty. He was probably with Cuddy. House stood outside his office and debated whether to go and find him.

_Con: going to Cuddy's office to look meant getting near the clinic.  
__Pro: finding Wilson meant telling the Price/Foreman story.  
Con: Cuddy comes to lunch with them.  
Pro: Wilson pays.  
Con: going to Cuddy's office means having to see Cameron.  
Pro: going to Cuddy's office means getting to see Cameron.  
_House sighed. _Cuddy's office it is._

* * *

House found not only Wilson, but Cameron in Cuddy's office as well. The three of them were laughing amiably. House stopped outside the door for a minute to watch his three favorite people together.

"Is this a private party or can anyone barge in?" House said as he barged into the office.

"Would you leave if we said it was a private party?" Cuddy asked snidely.

"Nope," House replied. Cuddy just shook her head, she'd known that answer. "You all look happy. You must be talking about me."

"As a matter of fact we were," Cuddy said. "According to the nursing staff, hell is freezing over as we speak."

House frowned at her and walked to Cameron's outer office. He opened the door and stuck out his head, looking carefully in both directions before returning.

"There's no ice in the clinic. Nurses were wrong," House reported, nudging Wilson with his cane to get him to move over on the couch. Wilson did and House sat down.

"Ha," Cuddy replied. "No. I'm referring to the fact that Dr. House was seen laughing with his fellows today."

"I have an excellent sense of humor," House protested.

"The operative words there were 'laughing with', not 'laughing at'," Wilson replied.

"Buy me lunch, you'll laugh till you choke," House said. Wilson rolled his eyes but stood anyway. He'd be buying House lunch one way or another, might as well get a good chuckle out of it.

"Will you ladies be joining us?" Wilson asked, mostly directed at Cuddy. Cuddy got up reluctantly. She knew Wilson was worried about her and it wouldn't hurt to have lunch in the cafeteria one day. Wilson and Cuddy walked out together, leaving House alone with Cameron.

"You coming?" House asked.

"Sure," Cameron said easily. "I'm starved." She walked over to House and leaned up to give him a kiss. He kissed her back, a little surprised that she seemed so normal.

"Who are you and what have you done with the real Cameron?" he asked suspiciously.

"The real Cameron got a reality check," Cameron laughed. "I was a jerk last night. I'm sorry."

"Huh," House said.

"What?" Cameron asked him as they walked out to join Wilson and Cuddy at the elevator.

"Just trying to remember the last time I heard the work jerk when it wasn't preceded by the word you," House mused.

"Shut up."

* * *

By the time the four doctors reached the cafeteria, their eyes were streaming with laughter provoked tears as House recounted Price and Foreman's antics. Cuddy couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed so hard. Wilson and Cameron laughed hard too, but both of them felt a little sorry for Price and what was sure to be a very uncomfortable few months.

As they walked through the cafeteria line, Cameron asked House about his patient. House admitted they were stumped. Cuddy and Wilson offered a few suggestions, unfortunately nothing they hadn't already tested for. House ordered a Rueben, dry, no pickles. Cuddy made a face. Although the morning sickness had passed, she was now subject to all sorts of food cravings and aversions. At the moment, lunch meat was one of her aversions. She and Cameron both took pre-made salads and yogurts, Cameron took an apple and Cuddy a nectarine. When they reached the end of the line, the cafeteria worker handed House his Rueben and Wilson a turkey club.

House walked off with his tray to find a seat. Wilson sighed and pulled out his wallet, but Cameron cut him off and paid for their lunches. Wilson smiled at her in thanks, and she told him she guessed she owed him for keeping House fed all these years.

As the three of them took seats at the table House had selected, House opened his sandwich and let out an annoyed grunt. Just exactly what part of no pickles was so difficult to understand?

House took the sandwich from his tray and limped to the end of the cafeteria line, cutting off several other people waiting to pay for their food.

"Hey!" he shouted to the worker who taken his order and then handed him his sandwich. "How hard is not to put the pickles on my sandwich?"

"I didn't put pickles on it," the man replied.

"So you're saying the pickles jumped onto my sandwich?" House asked him rudely.

"Look, I don't know how they got in there, but I didn't put any pickles in your sandwich," the man insisted.

House was no longer paying any attention to the cafeteria worker. His eyes had focused on a spot on the wall. If he had been in a cartoon, you would have seen the wheels turning in his head. He turned suddenly and limped out of the cafeteria, barely pausing to drop his sandwich on the table next to Wilson.

"Guess he figured it out," Cameron remarked.

"Do you think it was the pickles?" Wilson asked, as the three of them stared at his rapidly receding back and wondered for the millionth time how he did that.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

"We're idiots!" House shouted as he limped into the conference room. The three fellows looked at him blandly. "We scanned the wrong end."

"Care to explain that?" Foreman asked.

"The meninges are a hot new nightclub and the bacteria are supposed to be the little posers trying to get past the bouncer. But the bouncer is taking bribes and letting the poser bacteria in."

"Right, well that clears things right up," Foreman said sarcastically.

"We've been spending all of our time trying to figure out why she couldn't fight off the bacteria. We should have been wondering how they got in there in the first place," House said, saddened that yet another metaphor would have to be explained.

"She had a cold. It's winter. What's your point?" Foreman asked.

"My point is that millions of people get colds. Only a small percentage of them get bacterial meningitis. Why, you ask? Excellent question. It's actually very difficult for bacteria to get into the meninges. That's why the recurrence of it is so rare. This little girl has had it three times in eighteen months. It's not her immune system. It's easier for the bacteria to get in there because of something going on in this girl's head," House explained.

"It can't be a structural defect," Price said. "She would have been getting meningitis her entire life. It's got be something more recent."

"There's no mention of any trauma or accidents in the history," Jasper said. "She didn't just suddenly develop a structural defect in her skull."

"It doesn't have to be anything huge," House said. "In fact, it's likely something so small nobody would even think to look for it, probably caused by an accident that they never had checked out. Contrary to what my experience in the clinic tells me, not every parent drags their kid to the hospital when they fall down and scrape their knee."

"I'll go talk to the family, see if we can come up with anything," Jasper said.

"Good, meanwhile get an MRI of her head. We need to find the hole and plug it up," House ordered. The three fellows left the room to carry out House's orders. House looked around the now empty conference room as his stomach rumbled again. "I've got to get an office closer to the cafeteria."

* * *

"You were right," Foreman said, entering House's office later that afternoon. "Jasper talked to the family; apparently she fell sledding at the tail end of the winter two years ago. She wasn't seriously hurt so they never had her checked out. It caused a defect. It's small, but we found it. It fits; she came down with her first case of meningitis eighteen months ago. That was the first winter after that accident."

"Who's doing the surgery?" House asked.

"Dr. Leslie," Foreman replied. House nodded. Foreman exited though the side door and into the conference room. He found himself alone with Price for the first time. Foreman briefly considered fleeing. Before he could back out of the room, Price turned. He jumped awkwardly from his chair and faced Foreman.

"Foreman, please, you must let me apologize properly. I am mortified that I behaved so, so, well suffice it to say I'm mortified," Price stammered. "Not to say that dating you would be mortifying. You are, as House said, a very attractive man and anyone would be lucky to … Of course I'm not saying that _I'd_ want to but … Blast! I don't see how this could be any more awkward."

"Price," Foreman interrupted desperately. Price was obviously upset about it and clearly had not been hitting on him, so Foreman figured he'd let the guy off the hook.

"I'm sorry," Price muttered. "I'm a terribly sloppy drunk. I always have been. When I was at university, I got drunk at a reception and proposed to the headmaster's son." Price paused. "That's not helping, is it?"

"Look, Price, I forgive you. You didn't mean it; we all do stupid things sometimes when we're drunk. Yours seem to mostly involve hitting on men, but that's okay. The point is, we can just move on and never, ever mention this again," Foreman said, stressing the never mention part strenuously.

Price nodded, thankful that Foreman seemed to calm about this. If only he could believe that Dr. House would let it go so easily.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" Cameron asked as House entered her office.

"Every so often I like to test my skills by crossing No Man's Land safely," House said. Cameron frowned. "Getting through the clinic without having to work? Geez, I thought you were getting better at this."

Cameron frowned harder, if that were possible. House sighed. He'd done it again. A comment flickered across his mind about her straining an eyebrow if she tried to draw them any tighter, but he clipped it off. She used to let comments like that roll right off her. Now it was like she was looking for some hidden meaning.

"Solved your case?" Cameron asked, her expression having returned to nearly normal. House could still see the wheels turning in her mind, however. "Was it the pickles?"

"Sorry, what were you saying?" House asked.

"The pickles. What did that have to do with it?" Cameron asked. Being at least a little familiar with the case, Cameron was dying to know how the pickles related to bacterial meningitis. Maybe, if she was lucky, she'd get just the tiniest insight into what was going on inside his head.

"Oh, the pickles. No, not them, how they got in there. Minor head trauma, caused a defect and let the bacteria in," House said.

Cameron nodded. House looked at her speculatively, and Cameron began to squirm a little. Being under observation was never comfortable, but sometimes with House it was like in bad movies where the cops shined that huge light in your face.

"Come on," House said suddenly, standing and holding open the door for her. Cameron stepped out from behind her desk and glanced back into Cuddy's office. House rolled his eyes. "Cuddy!" House shouted. "Borrowing Cameron!" Then he unceremoniously shoved Cameron out the door.

"Where are we going?" Cameron asked following House toward the elevators.

"We're off to see the Wizard," House said mysteriously. Cameron groaned. Why did she ever try to get a straight answer from that man?


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

When they arrived outside Quig's office, Cameron clenched; she couldn't help it. She'd asked House to let her in, but this was incredible, especially since they'd yet to discuss his appointment with Dr. Jessup. Cameron felt tears welling up in her eyes when a voice, her inner-House she called it, piped up. _Cameron, _her inner-House always called her that, never Allison, _do you really think I'd bring you to my shrink's office and let the two of you poke at me? _

"What are you up to?" Cameron asked him.

"Who me?" House replied acting the innocent as only the guilty can.

House opened the door and entered, robbing Cameron of her chance to reply. She considered not following him but once again, he was too quick. House stepped backward and took her by the arm to lead her inside.

If Quig was surprised, he didn't show it. In the years he'd practiced as a psychiatrist, House was certainly in the top ten of his most entertaining patients; he was also in the top ten of most challenging and least predictable. Quig genuinely liked him, a feat most people didn't manage.

"How's the wife?" House asked conversationally, as though there was nothing unusual about Cameron attending their session.

"Not deaf," Quig answered.

"Miss me?" House asked, now seated in one of the brown leather chairs.

"Every minute of every day," Quig replied. They started a good majority of their sessions this way. It was House's way of saying hello. "Did I schedule Show and Tell today?"

Cameron was taken aback. What kind of thing was that for a psychiatrist to say? She looked at House for a reaction and got nothing but a grin.

"You must be Dr. Cameron," Quig said, walking around the desk and offering Cameron his hand. Cameron took it and Quig placed his other hand on her back and led her to the chair next to House. Cameron sat. Quig pulled one of his regular office chairs over and sat across the table from them. "I'm Dr. Quigley. You can call me Quig. So, to what do I owe the pleasure of PPTH's favorite couple?"

House snorted. Cameron looked between them, uncertain what to make of this man. She knew House liked and respected him, so that counted for something. Actually, House probably liked him because he wasn't conventional. Surely House would never have survived therapy this long with your run of the mill psychiatrist.

"Cameron and I…" House began. Quig cleared his throat. "Right, Allison and I seem to be having some trouble communicating." Cameron turned her head slowly and looked at House. House looked back, amused. "Specifically, it seems that Allison is having a hard time differentiating between a joke and an insult."

"Are you kidding me?" Cameron hissed at House. She shot Quig a quick look. "Practically everything that comes out of his mouth is an insult. Is it any wonder I have a hard time telling the difference?"

"Cameron, ugh, Allison, you can't take everything I say so seriously. At least sixty percent of the stuff coming out of my mouth is crap," House said.

"Well maybe you should have gotten me a pair of hip-waders instead of an engagement ring," Cameron retorted. "What is this all about? You're trying to figure something out, why don't you just ask me and save us both a lot of trouble!"

"What the hell did I say that got you so upset last night?" House finally barked at her.

"It's not what you said, Greg, it's the way you said it. You make everything into a joke or a way to mock someone's insecurities or a puzzle. Everything you say to me, I'm constantly trying to figure out the hidden meaning behind it," Cameron told him.

"Well why don't you just ask?" House growled. "Argh! Cameron, you're so frustrating sometimes."

"I'm frustrating? I'm frustrating. Do you have any idea how hard you are to talk to? Why don't I just ask? Like you'd tell me if I did!" Cameron shouted.

Quig had been sitting quietly, watching this exchange. House and Cameron, for their parts, seemed to have mostly forgotten he was there. He could have let them argue it out, but that wasn't going to help them in the long run.

"Okay let's take a breather," Quig said. House and Cameron both turned to him in surprise. Cameron blushed immediately, embarrassed that she'd argued with House in front of his therapist. House, on the other hand, seemed relieved.

"Fighting like cats and dogs, check," Quig said. House laughed. Cameron crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. Quig took a deep breath; it had been quite some time since he'd done couples counseling and these two were quite the pair.

"So far what I've got is House is impossible and Allison is frustrating," Quig said. House muttered something under his breath, but it was too low for Cameron and Quig to make out.

"He's too cryptic. He never just says what he's really thinking. It's practically impossible to know what's going on inside that horror he calls a mind," Cameron lamented.

"Tell me about it," Quig commiserated. "I get paid to do this and I still have trouble getting him to talk."

"And even when he does talk, you can't always be sure what he means. I feel like I need my secret decoder ring," Cameron sighed.

"Or a House-English dictionary," Quig suggested.

"Hello!" House interjected. "Still in the room. I left my cripple-bashing shield at home."

Cameron and Quig just exchanged looks. Quig shrugged and Cameron shrugged back. Suddenly, she liked this guy, a lot. She hoped he could help them work some things out.

"I'd like for the two of you to try a little experiment for me," Quig said. Cameron became instantly attentive while House groaned. Therapy homework? "When there's something on your mind, something you want to talk about, what do you usually do?"

"Avoid it like the plague," Cameron said.

"Like the clap," House interjected. "I love a plague."

"Got it," Quig said quickly. "Here's what I'd like you to do for the next month. Once a week, no more than that, I want the two of you to go someplace other than the hospital or your apartments. Someplace quiet, maybe a park. I don't want you to look at each other, sit back to back if you have to. Then I want each of you to ask the other one question, about a subject you normally wouldn't talk about. And I want you each to give an honest answer. Follow up questions are allowed, but your turn should definitely not last longer than an hour. When you're done, I want you to go home separately so you can think over what the other has said."

"And what exactly is the point of this?" House asked skeptically.

"By assigning a time once a week, you know you'll get your chance to ask. You know you'll be limited to one topic, so you don't have to worry about getting bogged down in some emotional quagmire. I'm sure you can see why the not looking at each other is helpful. Think of it like a confessional at church," Quig explained. Both Cameron and House looked at him blankly. "Heathens," Quig muttered. "Think of it like pouring your soul out to a bartender. Anonymity."

Cameron and House nodded. This would be interesting, if nothing else.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

House returned to his office after his appointment with Quig and Cameron. He needed some time to think. As he limped down the hall, his mind was reeling with questions that Cameron might ask him. He knew she would only be asking him one at a time, but which one? There were many things House hated, and among them was being unprepared.

House entered his office and sank into his chair, lifting the gray and red tennis ball deftly from the desktop and rolling it between his hands. As he contemplated all the possible questions that Cameron might ask him, an even more disturbing thought occurred to him. What was he going to ask her? Now utterly distressed, he began tossing the tennis ball against the wall and catching it.

House wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there when he heard a light tapping on his glass door, followed by a nervous little cough. He looked up and saw a nurse from the clinic, what was her name? Katie, right, the one Cameron said was checking out his assets.

"Dr. House, excuse me, but Dr. Cuddy sent me up here to get you," Nurse Katie said nervously.

"I'm not working the clinic today," House said impatiently. He had more important things to think about, and how dare Cuddy send a proxy to irritate him about the clinic.

"Not for the clinic, Dr. House. She just wants you in her office," Nurse Katie replied quickly.

"Oh for love of … Look, I'm busy here. I'll come down and see her later," House said dismissively. Nurse Katie, however, wasn't to be dismissed.

"Dr. Cuddy told me if I came back downstairs without you I'd be out of my job," she said.

House caught the tennis ball and let his chin drop to his chest. Sometimes he really despised that woman. Placing the ball on the desk, House grabbed his cane and heaved himself out of his chair, muttering obscenities under his breath. As he passed by Nurse Katie, who had been standing expectantly in the doorway, she caught a taste of what he was muttering and blushed wildly.

Not bothering to knock, House sauntered into Cuddy's office and took a deep breath to begin the tirade he had been planning on the elevator ride down. One look at Cuddy's face, panic evident in every pore as she sat hunched in her chair, and he let out the breath in a rush.

"What's wrong?" he asked, limping hurriedly to her side. He knelt down awkwardly to get a better look at her. She wasn't pale or flushed, no sweating. All good signs.

"Sharp pain, starting around my belly button and radiating down toward the pelvic area," Cuddy said. "Constant, but fluctuating in intensity."

House nodded. Constant meant it wasn't premature labor, another good sign.

"Scale of one to ten?" House asked her. As he did, he reached his hands out hesitatingly to touch her stomach. He met her eyes quickly and she nodded her permission.

"Five at the worst," Cuddy said. House pressed a little around her abdomen.

"Worse?" he asked. Cuddy shook her in the negative. House nodded. He thought she'd probably be alright. Of course he wasn't an obstetrician and for something like this he would take no chances. "Who are you seeing?"

"Huntley," Cuddy replied. House reached across her and picked up the phone. He dialed the extension for the OB department and spoke briefly to the nurse who answered.

"Okay, we're going upstairs and get you checked out," House said. He helped Cuddy to her feet and offered her his free arm for support. "Where's Wilson?"

"I don't know," Cuddy said as she walked slowly with House out the door of her office. Cameron had been called away for a consult in immunology when she'd returned from her excursion with House, and Cuddy hadn't know who else to call.

"I can stay," House offered. Cuddy just nodded. He was being extremely nice right now and she wasn't about to scare him off by saying thank you. "Huntley could probably use a hand with the pelvic exam anyway."


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: So I realized how pathetically short the last chapter was, so I decided to post two to make up for it. Tell me you love me!! (Sorry, didn't mean to get all needy)**

Chapter 23

"So when do we get to meet Rae?" Nichelle asked as she, Marcus and Foreman sat in the living room of Foreman's apartment. Nichelle had just put the two kids to bed in Foreman's guest room and joined her husband and brother-in-law for a cup of coffee.

"We broke up," Foreman said flatly.

"Oh Eric, I'm so sorry," Nichelle said. "I know you really cared about her."

"Yeah, well. I guess caring about her just wasn't enough," Foreman said bitterly, as he recalled Rae's parting words to him. _You'll never love me as much as you love your job, and I just can't accept that._

"Hey, little bro, don't worry about it. As soon as you get married, it's all chores and nagging anyway," Marcus said, shooting a mischievous glance in Nichelle's direction.

"I'll remember you said that," Nichelle warned. Marcus grinned, as did Foreman.

"So tell us about work," Nichelle inquired, hoping to redirect the conversation to a more pleasant topic. "What about the new doctor that House hired, the British guy?"

Foreman rolled and his eyes and recounted the story of their kiss and the resulting Chase/Price kiss to Marcus and Nichelle. By the time he was through, all three were laughing hysterically. The rest of the night was spent regaling Nichelle with stories of their escapades in early childhood. When all and sundry finally went to bed, Foreman felt better than he had in days.

As he lay down to sleep, he lamented the fact that all his family lived so far away. It wasn't so far you couldn't drive, just far enough that you had to stay overnight. Neither Foreman nor Marcus and Nichelle could easily make that trip regularly. Foreman let his mind wander and found himself thinking of his fellowship renewal, which was coming up in the summer. Just as he drifted off, Foreman wondered if maybe he and his family couldn't see each other more.

* * *

"Mikki, please stop," Chase pleaded. Jasper ignored his protests and continued kissing the side of his neck, letting her hand graze lightly over his chest and drift slowly down his abdomen. She felt him quietly surrendering, but when her hand slid beneath the waistband of his flannel pants he grabbed her arm and flung it away while leaping out of bed. "Mikki, don't!"

"Rob, what is wrong with you?" Jasper asked.

"I can't do this here," Chase said, indicating his surroundings.

"It's a bedroom," Jasper replied, confused. She wasn't following him.

"Mikki, this is not just a bedroom. This is your bedroom in your parents' house. Your entire family is sleeping in every room around us," Chase said.

"So?" Jasper asked. Chase sighed in frustration. He didn't want to hurt her feelings, but this was just too weird.

"Look, I know you feel comfortable here," Chase said as he sat on the bed beside her. "You grew up here. But I just met you parents and your five extremely large brothers and I just don't feel comfortable having sex in their house."

"I'm sorry," Jasper said softly. "I didn't really think about that. I guess I forget sometimes how intimidating they all can be." Chase agreed with that wholeheartedly.

A knock at the door interrupted their discussion and when three of Jasper's five brothers entered without waiting for permission Chase was doubly glad he'd stopped her when he did.

"Hey munchkin," Dan greeted Jasper. "Just making sure you guys are all settled in."

"We're fine Dan," Jasper replied. She knew that's not what they were doing and she was frankly a little annoyed with them.

"Yeah, just checking up on you," Matt explained.

"Making sure you have everything you need," Drake stressed.

"We have everything we need, we're all settled and I haven't needed checking up on since I was eleven," Jasper said.

"No need to get snippy, Michael," Andrew said as he joined his brothers from the hall. "They're just trying to make sure our guest is comfortable."

"But not too comfortable," Josh interjected, forcing his way into the now extremely crowded bedroom. Chase hadn't needed a reminder of just how large these guys were, but they seemed to think he might. Cramming themselves into Jasper's bedroom and standing shoulder to shoulder was certainly a useful visual aid.

"You boys get out of there and stop pestering Robert and Mikki," Mrs. Jasper admonished from her place in the hall. The room was really too crowded to allow one more person entry. The 'boys' grumbled a bit as they filed out of Jasper's room one by one, but not so much as to attract their mother's attention. They might be grown, but their mother never felt they were too grown for a hand up the back of the head.

"I'm sorry, Robert," Mrs. Jasper said once she was finally able to get into the doorway. "They're just flexing their big brother muscles. It's been quite some time since there was a young man here for Mikki and they're feeling a little over eager. They won't bother you any more tonight." Mrs. Jasper pulled the door closed behind her as she exited and Chase immediately exhaled a long sigh and flopped back on the pillows.

"Okay, I get your point," Jasper conceded. "I did warn you about them."

"Its fine," Chase reassured her. "I told you they wouldn't scare me off and I meant it. Little Robbie, however, is unconvinced."

Jasper snorted. She climbed into bed next to him, content for now just to sleep in his arms.

* * *

"Have you ever been tested for schizophrenia?" House asked as he stood in front of Cameron's CD collection.

"No," Cameron replied from her seat in the armchair where she was reading the latest Dresden Files novel. "What makes you think I'm schizophrenic this time?"

"Eminem touching shoulders with Frank Sinatra," House said as if that should have been obvious.

"What?" Cameron asked, finally ripping her eyes from the book. For a man who shushed anyone who spoke during General Hospital, he certainly didn't seem to mind interrupting her while she was trying to read a good book.

"Your CDs," House continued. "They're a little disturbing."

"Excuse me," Cameron said, "but I am not the one hiding a secret stash of Toby Keith albums."

"I'd rather you were hiding some of this stuff," House mumbled. Cameron could hear the CD cases clicking together as House flipped through them, pausing every so often to either admire or make faces. "See, Paula Abdul should never, ever be near B.B. King and Metallica. It's just wrong."

"Then don't look," Cameron suggested, flipping her book back open and quickly becoming engrossed. She wasn't even aware he was approaching until he was placing his hands over the page she was trying to read. She raised an annoyed eyebrow.

"I'm bored," House said. "Entertain me." Cameron rolled her eyes. He was impossible. She loved that. Knowing she'd never get any reading done now, she put the bookmark in its place and removed her glasses. Taking House by the hand, she led him into the bedroom to 'entertain' him to unconsciousness. Maybe then she could finish her book.

* * *

"James, I'm fine. Please stop fussing over me," Cuddy pleaded. It had been over a week. Dr. Huntley had assured her both she and the baby were perfectly fine. James was really being ridiculous trying to make her rest at all hours of the day. "You heard the doctor, there's nothing wrong."

"Yes, and I also heard him say that you should be resting more and working less," Wilson replied. It had been over a week, and despite Dr. Huntley's admonishment that she was stressing herself unnecessarily Lisa insisted on working all hours of the day and night. It was beginning to irritate him. "You need to slow down."

"If I slow down any more I'll be stopped," Cuddy replied sharply. "James, I'm not a needy little girl. You don't have to take care of me."

Wilson stiffened. He had been searching for a throw blanket to cover her with so she could take a nap on the sofa. Somehow it always ended up on the floor behind the armchair, no matter how many times he folded it and put it away. He straightened from his search and stood with his back to her. How could she say that?

Cuddy could see how tense he'd become and regretted her words, if not the sentiment behind them. She really couldn't bring herself to apologize. Not this time.

"Well, if you don't need me, I'll just be going then," Wilson said. He took his coat and keys and walked out the door, with no idea of where he was going. He and Lisa had been living together for several weeks. So he went where he always went when a relationship went sour.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: I love all you guys who review, you rock! Just wanted to tell you that! **

Chapter 24

Convinced by the lack of response that House wasn't home, Wilson stood indecisively outside the door. He wasn't going back home; he knew that. He also was not going to Cameron's, where House undoubtedly was. The only thing left was to use his key and spend the night at House's place or drive to the hospital and sleep on the couch in his office. Wilson rubbed the back of his neck just thinking about sleeping on the couch. He reluctantly withdrew his key and unlocked the door. Maybe, if he was really careful, House would never know he was there.

Wilson closed the door behind him and went straight to the kitchen. He'd been so busy trying to get Cuddy to lay down that he'd never eaten dinner and he was starving. A quick peek made Wilson wonder why he even bothered; House never had any food in the fridge and Wilson had eaten enough peanut butter sandwiches after his last divorce to last him a lifetime.

Wilson rifled through the menu drawer and was trying to decide between pizza or a grinder when he noticed the apartment was unusually quiet. Wilson checked his watch; it was surely time for him to be up and about, wasn't it? Dropping the menus back in the drawer, Wilson walked slowly to the living room and around the piano. There, on a small end table beside the TV was the cage. Peering inside, Wilson could see Steve lying on his side.

"Crap," Wilson muttered. He considered leaving, but even if he was just a rat Wilson couldn't do that. Sighing heavily, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and hit speed dial. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. There were going to be lots of questions and probably some poking involved.

"Busy right now," House answered the phone.

"House, I'm afraid I have some bad news," Wilson told him, wracking his brains for any reason he would be at House's apartment besides the truth. "Steve McQueen is dead."

"Yes, and the Berlin Wall came down," House quipped. "If you want to tell me old news … wait, my Steve McQueen?"

"Yeah. Your Steve McQueen," Wilson said.

"So Cuddy threw you out," House said with beautiful unconcern.

"She didn't throw me out," Wilson argued. "I … I left."

"That's different," House commented.

"House, please. I'm really not in the mood for your speech about my inability to sustain a relationship. Are you coming home?" Wilson asked.

"Why?"

"Your rat is dead," Wilson said.

"And your tie is ugly," House replied.

"You can't even see my tie," Wilson protested. "Stop changing the subject. What do you want me to do with him?"

"Take him out dancing," House said. "Wrap him up and throw him out."

"And you're okay with that," Wilson said.

"Wilson, he's a rat," House said. He hung up the phone as Cameron entered the bedroom. She climbed into bed next to him and snuggled into his chest.

"Was that Jimmy?" Cameron asked.

"Yeah, he and Cuddy had a fight. He's at my place," House said, rubbing his cell phone on his chin. Cameron noticed.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Steve McQueen died," House told her.

"Oh," Cameron said. She shifted a little away from him and House frowned. He didn't really think Cameron liked Steve all that much; it seemed odd to him that she would be upset by his death. He nudged her with his knee to encourage her to talk. "You'll think I'm terrible," Cameron said in response, and turned over on her side to face him. He waited. "You shouldn't wish death on anything, not even a rat, but I'm kind of glad he's gone." House registered surprise. "I figured you kept him because he reminded you of Stacey."

"I did," House said. "At first. But then he grew on me. And what was I going to do, kill him? I only kill puppies," House joked and placed a kiss on the top of Cameron's head. "Hey, does that count as my confession for this week?"

"You wish," Cameron answered.

* * *

When a week had passed and Wilson was still sleeping on his couch House began to get frustrated. He'd gotten better about staying at Cameron's, but at heart he was a creature of habit and he liked his apartment. Cameron would stay the night, but she refused to 'entertain' him while Wilson was sleeping down the hall. And beyond his physical frustrations, this was different. Try as he might to convince himself otherwise, House cared if Wilson and Cuddy split up and not just because it meant he was inconvenienced. They were good for each other; they were just too blind to themselves to see it.

Wilson, for his part, absolutely refused to talk about it. He said he'd already heard all of House's opinions and advice, ad nauseam, and he didn't need a repeat. He did rather caustically suggest that House might use his special brand of persuasion to point out a few truths to Cuddy, at which House snorted. House as relationship counselor?

Cameron tried her best to talk to Cuddy. Although they had gotten closer over the past year, their relationship wasn't quite at that place where Cameron could tell her boss she was being an idiot and should just apologize. She had, however, told Jimmy that very thing. It did not get the reception she had hoped.

House and Cameron briefly considered simply locking the two of them in a room and forcing them to work it out. Well, House considered it but in the end he decided that would take too much effort on his part, especially as Cameron refused to help him.

Making matters worse, news of their split had somehow leaked to the grapevine and was currently the talk of the hospital. In light of Cuddy's ever more obvious pregnancy and Wilson's admittedly dodgy reputation as a playboy, popular opinion of Dr. James Wilson, Boy Wonder Oncologist, was at an all time low. Wilson claimed to both House and Cameron that he didn't really care, and House actually believed him. Cuddy also claimed not to care, but neither Cameron nor House could believe that. She cared, as was evidenced by her sharp rebukes to any nurses she overheard talking about Wilson, good or bad.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, Chase and Jasper were so good together it was almost nauseating. Chase had made it a habit to stop into the conference room every morning to give Jasper a kiss before work and after a week of listening to Wilson snoring on his couch without saying anything, House's sarcasm muscle was twitching.

"The Wombat cometh," House intoned from his place in front of the coffee machine. This daily ritual was annoying him, although he wasn't sure why exactly. It might have something to do with his worrying about Cuddy and Wilson. Or it might be the fact that his first confession with Cameron was tonight. Getting to watch live tongue action couldn't possibly be the problem. Maybe he just didn't like Chase.

"Morning sweetie," Chase said as he entered the conference room. Jasper smiled and her face lit up. Foreman and Price had the decency to look away while he and Jasper kissed, but House kept watching.

"You say that as if you didn't wake up all tangled together," House snarked. That was pure jealousy; he hadn't woken up tangled with anyone. "Honestly Chase, you're here more reliably now than when you worked for me."

"Wilson's still on the couch?" Chase muttered to Foreman. Foreman nodded. Chase understood.

"We didn't wake up together, not that it's any of your business. Oh, no, everything is your business," Jasper retorted. House had gotten snippier and snippier as the week progressed and she'd really had just about enough.

"You two should just move in together," House said off-hand. "Then you get your morning smooches in at home and spare me regurgitating my breakfast." That said he limped into his office and sat down with his Ipod.

Foreman and Price just shook their heads at House's mini-tantrum, but Chase and Jasper stared at each other intently. Neither of them knew how he did that, but he'd hit on something they'd both wanted to talk about but been afraid to say.

"Do you want to …" Chase began.

"It's not the worst idea …" Jasper commented. They spoke simultaneously and stopped when they realized what the other was saying.

"Does that mean yes?" Chase asked. Jasper nodded and Chase grabbed her and pulled her in for a Hollywood style kiss.

"Get a room!" House shouted from his office. Before he could shout anything else, his pager vibrated against his hip. Annoyed, he ripped it off his belt to see who had decided to annoy him now. The change in his facial expression when he realized it was Cameron would have been startling, had anyone been watching. He left his Ipod on the desk and made his way downstairs.

"You rang?" House bellowed as he entered Cameron's office. Cameron looked up from her computer screen and smiled. It wasn't quite the flash of joy that had graced Jasper's countenance upstairs, but there was no mistaking her happiness to see him.

"We have a problem," Cameron said, shooting a glance in the direction of Cuddy's office.

"Mommy having a bad day?" House asked sarcastically.

"She asked me to be her Lamaze coach," Cameron said.

"Okay," House said.

"If she's asking me, then she's not asking Jimmy."

"Right," House said.

"She should ask Jimmy," Cameron told him.

"And what does this have to do with me?" House asked.

"Go talk to her," Cameron said. House leveled his gaze at her. Cameron rolled her eyes. "The sooner she and Jimmy get back together, the sooner he'll be off your couch and the sooner I'll be back in your bed."

"I do like that," House said. He took a deep breath and looked at Cameron. "Do I get a last request before I face the firing squad?"

"I'm not having sex with you on my desk," Cameron replied dryly.

"If I get them back together, can we talk about sex on your desk?" House asked hopefully.

"Fine," Cameron said. Once House had entered Cuddy's office she smirked. "We can talk about it all you'd like."

* * *

"What do you want House?" Cuddy asked as he walked in. She'd been watching him talk to Cameron and although she couldn't tell what they were saying, she had a pretty good idea of what was coming.

"Is that any way to greet an old friend?" House said, settling himself on her couch for what he was sure would be either a very short and painful or very long and painful conversation.

"You're just old," Cuddy fired back. House smirked at her.

"Make up with Wilson," he said. He wasn't going to sweet talk her; he wouldn't know how even if he'd wanted to. Blunt and overbearing were his trademarks, and it was always best to go with your strengths.

"House," Cuddy started.

"You're good for each other. Wilson needs to be needed. There's nothing wrong with that. Usually, he picks a really needy woman. That's where the problem comes in. This time he picked you. You don't need anything. You two could never speak to each other again, and you'd be okay," House said. Cuddy stared at him. "Do you want to spend the rest of your life being okay?" He paused and while she tried to come up with an answer he continued. "You're the right kind of needy. All you need is someone to love you."

Cuddy waited a long time before responding. "What about what he needs?"

"You're what he needs. Everybody needs something. It's not wrong; it doesn't make you weak. And if what you need is also what you want …" House let his voice trail off, lifting his head and looking at Cuddy. She nodded at him. House stood up to leave; he'd done all he could. "Me, I need Wilson off my couch. I also want Wilson off my couch. Imagine how happy I could be if I got both those things." He paused for a minute and then shivered. "Scary."

Okay, no flames from any Steve lovers. I loved him too, but two years is a long time for him to stick around


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: For tiflissa, who so kindly nudged me to get this next part up by stroking my ego. (Hint, hint, more reviews mean more chapters!)**

Chapter 25

Cuddy stood uncertainly outside Wilson's office door. House was right and she hated that. Normally she only hated that with a mild sort of irritation centered on the fact that she was truly a little jealous of his intelligence and his ability to solve the unsolvable puzzle. This was different; she hated that he could know how she was feeling when even she wasn't sure. She hated that even though until recently he couldn't manage a healthy relationship with another human being he could so accurately pinpoint the stumbling blocks in someone else's relationship. She hated that despite how hard she tried to hide her weaknesses to him they were as obvious as her cleavage. Sometimes she just hated him. Thank God he was around.

Cuddy tentatively knocked on the closed door and waited. She heard Wilson's faint call to enter and steeled herself to do what was hardest for her, admit that she was wrong and that she did, in fact, need him. She opened the door and stood in its entry.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Dr. Cuddy," Wilson replied frostily. He was hurt and he wasn't going to hide it. She had picked the one thing he was most insecure about, the one thing he tried so hard to change about himself and flung it in his face. He'd always forgiven House for that, but he hadn't expected it from her and it stung.

"Jimmy, I'm sorry," Cuddy said. Wilson softened, the tiniest bit, but recovered quickly. He wasn't sure sorry was enough? "I shouldn't have said that. It was cruel and thoughtless and … it was a lie."

Wilson raised his eyebrows at this remark. He studied her face for a long time before motioning for her to enter. Cuddy came fully into the office and sat on the couch. They stared at each other for a minute before Cuddy finally looked away. She couldn't stand the hurt in his eyes.

"I do need you," Cuddy said. She couldn't see Wilson's expression, because she was afraid to look. She was afraid she wouldn't like what she'd see. "I'm not used to needing anyone. My parents weren't well to do; I had to work to get through college and med school. I had to work twice as hard to earn respect as a doctor and three times as hard to get where I am and I had to do it on my own. I haven't needed anyone in a long time and I guess I just … I forgot that needing someone isn't necessarily a bad thing."

Wilson leaned back in his chair. That was completely not what he'd been expecting. Part of the reason he'd been so miserable this past week was because he'd assumed the worst. His experience in relationships had taught him when things got this bad you looked for a way out. He was sure when she'd opened the door that she had come to discuss a custody arrangement and how involved he'd want to be in the baby's life. She wanted back in, and that was new territory for Wilson.

"I … don't know what to say," Wilson said slowly. The idea that she would still want him had never occurred to him. "I've never done this before."

"Done what?" Cuddy asked, the tone of his voice suggesting maybe she could look at him and see what she hoped for.

"Worked it out," Wilson said. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do next."

Cuddy smiled. She'd never been in a long-term relationship, not since high school anyway, and she didn't know what they were supposed to do next either. Wilson stood from his chair and joined her on the couch. They sat side by side, Wilson's elbows resting on his knees and Cuddy's hands resting on her abdomen.

"I missed you," Cuddy said quietly.

"Me too," Wilson said. He leaned back on the couch and raised his arm. Cuddy leaned against him and he wrapped his arm around her back. "What's next?"

"I don't know," Cuddy said. "Maybe its better if we don't know what we're 'supposed' to do. We'll just make it up as we go."

"And where do we go from here?" Wilson asked.

"Home," Cuddy breathed into his shoulder. Wilson tightened his hold on her and sighed.

* * *

House followed Cameron skeptically through the park. He had hoped, really strongly, that she would forget about this whole confession thing or that he would be able to convince her that it was stupid. No such luck. He'd spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about what she might ask him and he was pretty sure he had at least a half way honest answer to all the questions. He'd even come up with a question to ask her about one of the only things he could imagine was left in her past that they hadn't already discussed.

Cameron stopped when she reached what she deemed to be a suitably out of the way spot for them. It wasn't too far from where they'd parked, always thinking of his leg, but was a secluded enough clearing in the trees. She spread out the blanket she'd been carrying and sat down. She looked up at House, who was now standing over her with an incredulous look on his face.

"Just sit down," she said. She was nervous as well. She figured House would probably ask her something stupid; she knew full well that he didn't really want to do this. She only hoped that he would take it at least a little seriously when she asked him her question.

Rolling his eyes and making a disgusted face, House dropped his cane on the edge of the blanket and sat down. Before Cameron could speak, he lay on his back and stared up at the leaves above him as they danced gently in the breeze. Cameron followed his lead and lay down as well, positioning herself so that the top of her head touched the top of House's.

"You can ask first, if it will make you feel better," Cameron offered. She knew House was nervous about this and she really hoped that if he asked and she gave him a completely honest answer he just might do the same.

"Okay," House said. Cameron waited. "Why did you marry your husband?"

"Why did I marry him? Or why did I marry a dying man?" Cameron asked.

"It's the same thing," House said.

"No," Cameron said quietly. "No it isn't."

"Okay," House said. He was confused; this was supposed to be an easy question, designed to get him off the hook. Now he was intrigued. "What's the difference?"

Cameron took a deep breath before replying. "I married my husband because I loved him."

"And the other part?"

"Everybody lies," Cameron answered.

"Meaning?" House asked. When Cameron didn't answer House came to a realization. "He knew he was dying; you didn't."

"He was in remission when we met. We fell in love; we got engaged. I…" Cameron's voice caught in her throat. House was surprised she seemed so uncomfortable with this, especially when she'd been so candid about everything else. "I think he started having symptoms but hid them. He was the one who suggested moving up the wedding. It wasn't until after we were married that he told me the truth. It was just getting too hard for him to hide anymore."

"So why did you stay?" House asked.

"The fact that he was dying didn't change the fact that I loved him. And it didn't change who he was," Cameron said.

"A guy who lied to you about the fact that he was dying?" House asked.

"My husband. You don't just walk away from that," Cameron said. "When my sister died, my parents gave up. They didn't walk away from me or each other, but they might as well have. I wasn't going to do that to him. People you love deserve better."

House rested his hands on his chest and tapped a steady rhythm. He always assumed that Cameron had known that her husband was dying but married him anyway because of guilt. It was a little unsettling for him to hear that he'd been so wrong about her. House knew he'd have to think about this more carefully, but before he let Cameron ask her question there was one more thing he needed to know.

"I have a follow-up question," House said. Cameron nodded; House could feel her head moving against his own. "What was his name?"

"Keith," Cameron said. She waited a minute or so to see if House had any other questions. "My turn."

House braced himself and held his breath, all the while mentally running through his list of responses. He began nervously tapping his fingers on his chest again, becoming increasingly tense as he waited.

"Are you happy?" Cameron asked. House released the breath he'd been holding and reeled. His leg, his parents, Stacy, hookers, marriage, even adoption had all crossed his mind. This wasn't on his list. And so he did what House did best.

"I'm cold and there's a pinecone in my butt," House replied.

"Greg," Cameron pleaded.

"Jesus, Allison, what do you want me to say?" House asked.

"Are you happy?" Cameron repeated.

"Right now?" House asked.

"Right now, in general, last Thursday … ever," Cameron said quietly.

House didn't know how to answer that question. He wasn't sure he'd ever really been happy. Content, yes. Pleased, certainly. But happy was different. Even if he hadn't been in constant pain because of his leg, he wasn't sure he knew how to be happy.

"I'm as happy now as I've been in a long time," House said reservedly. That was true, absolutely.

"But you're not happy," Cameron said.

"My leg hurts," House said defensively.

"You're not your leg," Cameron said. "So, as long as your leg hurts you can never really be happy?"

House had no answer for that either. How could he be happy when he was in constant pain? He couldn't run, he couldn't take her dancing, couldn't play golf. Hell, he couldn't even walk up a flight of stairs. Wasn't that enough to put a damper on any measure of happiness?

"I don't know," he finally said. "Maybe not. I'm not who I was or who I wanted to be."

"I know that," Cameron said. "But Greg, I accept who you are. It doesn't make you less, or make our love less or make my happiness less. Now you have to accept who you are."

"I know who I am," House answered angrily.

"Knowing something and accepting something are two different things," Cameron said. "I love you, just like this. I'm happy with you, just like this. Now you need to be."

* * *

House flung his bag into the corner of the room and went straight to the stereo. He turned on something loud; he wasn't even fully aware of what he was listening to. It didn't matter as long as it was loud enough to stop him thinking. He went into the kitchen and pulled a beer from the fridge. He twisted the top off and tossed it on the counter. Leaning his cane against the island, he leaned back against the wall and took a few long swallows. He closed his eyes and let the music wash over him, but as he'd suspected no amount of volume was going to drive away his wildly swirling thoughts.

He limped caneless back into the living room and turned off the stereo, the resulting silence as thunderous as the music had been. He sat at the piano and rested his beer atop it, tunelessly fingering the keys. He thought about all Cameron had been through in her young life; losing a sister, neglectful parents, a drug problem, an abortion, a dead husband. She still managed to be happy.

In his mind, he compared Cameron's smile with the one Jasper had been blinding him with when Chase was in sight. There was a difference in those two smiles, beyond the two women's physical features. There was something in Cameron's smile that wasn't in Jasper's; it was subtle but it was there. Cameron's smile reflected her past. She knew real sorrow and her smiled showed a deeper appreciation for happiness. Jasper's smile was unmarred; it was more naïve. House chuckled to himself. More naïve than Cameron, how's that for irony?

The sound of a key in the lock startled House from his thoughts. He looked up as Wilson walked in. House sighed heavily; he'd forgotten Wilson was staying with him for the moment and he'd been looking forward to some quiet time to think about all he and Cameron had discussed.

"Hey," Wilson said. He dropped his keys on the small table beside the door. "I just came by to pick up my things." House nodded. Wilson noticed his pensive look and realized what day it was. "You and Cameron had your first … whatever you call it today, right? How'd it go?"

"Interesting," House said. He and Cameron hadn't actually discussed the rules of this thing. Was he allowed to talk to Wilson about it? It didn't matter, he was going to anyway. He kept his gaze carefully trained on the floor. "He lied to her."

"Her husband?" Wilson questioned, sitting down on the couch, his belongings forgotten. They'd already talked about what House would ask her.

"Didn't tell her he was sick until after they were married," House confirmed.

"And she stayed with him," Wilson said.

"She said people you love deserve better," House answered. There wasn't any real need to talk about that any further. He and Wilson had talked about this before too, when Stacy left him.

"So, what was her question? Your leg or your dad?" Wilson asked. He had figured those were the two most likely topics.

"She wants to know if I'm happy," House said. He looked up at Wilson. Wilson raised his eyebrows in response. That wasn't a question either of them had considered but now that it was out there, Wilson was more than a little curious to hear his answer. "I didn't know what to say. I'm happier than I was."

"But," Wilson prompted. House looked at his leg and then back at Wilson. "That's not all that you are."

"That's what she said," House scoffed. "Are you sure you two weren't separated at birth?" Wilson frowned at House. "I know it's not all that I am. But it's most of what I'm not."

"No," Wilson said. "She might buy that, but I've been here all along. The leg just gave you the out. The only reason you're not something is you."

House had no answer for that either. Wilson could sense he didn't want to talk anymore, so he got off the couch and gathered up his few things. When they were all packed in the duffel he stowed in the trunk of his car for these occasions, he looked back at House, still staring morosely at the floor.

"Whatever it is that you want to be and think you're not, you don't have to be that for everyone," Wilson said. He picked up the duffel from the couch and left.

**There's the button - it's right there! Click it, you know you want to! JB**


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: Thanks once again to all my fantastic reviewers. You guys really rock. **

Chapter 26

"Got a case for you," Cuddy pounced on House as soon as he entered the doors. She held out the file in front of him with a huge smile on her face.

"You're smiling," House said cautiously. "That doesn't usually mean good things for me."

"Despite the fact that you've convinced half the nurses here that the sun rises and sets at your command, the universe does not, in fact, revolve around you. I can smile for reasons unrelated to your existence," Cuddy retorted, completely unaffected by his comments.

"Wow," House half-laughed at her. "Who poured sunshine on your cornflakes this morning?"

"It's almost noon," Cuddy said, momentarily distracted from her joyous mood. The smile crept its way back to her face nearly instantaneously. It was making House nervous.

"Really? Rough night," House said as he made his way toward the elevators. "To what do we owe the pleasure of this mood and how long can we expect it to last?"

"It's a girl, and not long enough to get you out of taking this case and working your clinic hours," Cuddy chirped back at him.

"What's a girl?" House asked. Cuddy looked at him incredulously and then looked pointedly at her stomach. "Oh right. Sorry, I can't ever seem to look lower than the twins when you're facing me."

"You're disgusting," Cuddy said and she left House waiting for the elevator to take him upstairs. He and Cameron had agreed to wait until after work to see each other, unless hospital business demanded otherwise. That was fine with House, as he was still thinking over last night. The elevator opened before him and he entered.

House sauntered into the conference room and dropped the file on the table. Jasper and Foreman eagerly grabbed at the file and began looking over the notes. Price, on the other hand, watched as House limped to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. He waited until House turned around to speak.

"Dr. House, I would appreciate it if you would please stop giving out my phone number to the male staff," Price said stiffly.

"Who called? Was it Chris?" House asked, eyes gleaming.

"No, it was Daniel and Patrick and … who's Chris? How many people did you give my number to?" Price asked.

"Just a select few," House said. "Or a dozen. It's so hard to remember. Don't you worry, Mr. Right is out there."

"I'm not gay," Price said, although he knew it was a waste.

"And Foreman's not black, just really tan," House scoffed. Price huffed and sat down. If one more man called him and said 'Greg' told him to call he was going to Cuddy.

"Okay kiddos, what have we got?" House asked, marker in hand.

"Twenty three year old male," Foreman said. "Fever, pallor, dizziness, vomiting," he reeled off the list of complaints. "Sudden onset after dinner with his girlfriend."

"Food poisoning," Price suggested.

"They ate the exact same meal and the girlfriend isn't sick," Jasper said. "He's not vomiting any more, now he's complaining of fatigue and labored breathing."

"Start with the basics and get back to me. I'm going to lunch," House said. He dropped the marker in the tray and limped in the direction of Wilson's office.

"Lunch?" Price asked. "He only just arrived."

"Get used to it," Foreman said, grabbing his copy of the patient file and exiting the room. Price and Jasper soon followed.

* * *

House walked into Wilson's office without knocking, as was protocol. If Cuddy's mood was any indicator of Wilson's, he wouldn't care. He might not even notice. Sure enough, Wilson was already grinning ear to ear when House walked in and even House's horrible manners couldn't squash it.

"Good morning," House said.

"You mean afternoon," Wilson quipped.

"11:53, just made it," House replied, sitting on Wilson's couch and waiting for him to start gushing. Better to get that over with before trying to eat lunch. "So?"

"It's a girl," Wilson said, once again his smile threatening to split his face in two.

"Figures," House said. Wilson cocked his head at House for an explanation. "Takes a man to make a man." Wilson gave House a condescending look. "Of course, Cuddy used to be a man ….guess once the surgery is done it doesn't count."

"Well, she's all woman now," Wilson said and House grinned.

"I remember," House said, dropping Wilson a wink.

"You know, it's so terribly unfair that you've slept with my girlfriend and I haven't slept with yours. As you so kindly point out to me constantly, I sleep with everybody. Maybe I could borrow Cameron some night …." Wilson let his voice trail off and took extreme pleasure in the murderous look that crossed House's face. "I won't talk about Cameron if you'll stop talking about Lisa."

"That's blackmail," House protested. "Buy me lunch."

"Blackmail and bribery?" Wilson questioned. "I'm going to hell," he muttered as he stood up from his desk to take House to the cafeteria.

"Fantastic," House said. "We'll take the place over in no time."

* * *

House returned to his office slowly from the cafeteria. Although his pain had been manageable for a few weeks on the new treatment Dr. Jessup had prescribed, it was slowly getting worse. He hadn't gotten a good night's sleep and this always seemed to make his leg a little worse. He passed it off as just fatigue as he limped his way down the hall.

Hoping to catch a quick nap and give his leg a rest, House popped in his Ipod earbuds and settled into his yellow chair. Not five minutes later, the team walked into his office with results for his review. Sighing heavily, House shut off his Ipod and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"Randy has hemolytic anemia," Foreman told House.

"Randy? What kind of name is Randy?" House asked.

"The kind belonging to our patient," Foreman said with exasperation, "who has hemolytic anemia."

"Hemolytic anemia…that's blood stuff, right? Now where would I get an expert on blood disorders?" House mused. Price merely rolled his eyes before responding.

"There are too many possible causes for hemolytic anemia," Price said.

"Too many, like we can't test for them all or too many like you can't remember them all?" House snarked.

"Dr. House," Price began stiffly, "we should run a Coombs test. Positive will indicate immune-related anemia and negative will eliminate it."

"What tops the list for immune related?" Jasper asked.

"Lymphoma, leukemia, syphilis, mononucleosis, systemic lupus erythematosus," Price rattled off. "Of course, it could also be drug related."

"Kid in his twenties, drugs and syphilis are higher on the list than cancer or lupus. Do the Coombs, and run a tox screen and an STD panel while you're at it," House said. Price, Foreman and Jasper proceeded to file out of House's office, leaving him to hope the tox screen or the STD panel told them something useful. He'd rather not call immunology for a consult; he knew who they'd send.

* * *

An hour later, having been unable to fall asleep due to the increasing pain in his leg, House limped down to the lab to check on Randy's tests. He stopped just short of entering, however, when he noticed Price in the lab, chatting rather animatedly with one of the lab techs. One of the male lab techs. Forgetting his leg for a moment, House quickly darted back from the glass wall just far enough to still see in without being seen. Price was flirting, there was no doubt in House's mind. He smirked to himself; why did they always make it so easy for him?

Pushing himself off the wall, he returned to his office, where Foreman and Jasper were waiting for him. He limped in and sat behind the desk, rifling through his drawers for a bottle of ibuprophen he knew he'd left in there.

"Tox screen and STD panel are clear," Jasper said, watching House rummage. "Can I help you find something?" House shot an annoyed glance in her direction and she backed off.

"We called immunology for a consult, they said they'd send someone up as soon as possible," Foreman added. House paused in his search for the elusive bottle of pain relievers and closed his eyes for a millisecond. Before he could berate Foreman for calling on immunology before all the tests were back, a voice floated in from the hall.

"Someone?" Cameron asked. "Gee, you'd think with the promotion I'd at least get a name," she said dryly. Foreman grinned; he liked the Cameron who had been coming out of her shell slowly over the last year or so. Of course, you'd really have no choice if you were to survive dating House, he supposed.

House didn't look up from his desk as he addressed her. "Twenty three year old male. Fever, pallor, dizziness, vomiting, fatigue, labored breathing, hemolytic anemic crisis."

"Coombs was positive?" Cameron asked and House grinned despite his pain and increasing frustration that the damn ibuprophen wasn't in his desk. She was good.

"Not back yet," he said tersely. He slammed his middle desk drawer shut and leaned back in his chair. One look at his face, couple with the tone of his voice, told Cameron all she needed to know. She quietly walked around the desk and pushed his chair back slightly. As he rolled away, she opened the bottom right drawer and reached in the back, withdrawing a bottle of ibuprophen from its depths. She handed it to him silently, and he thanked her in kind.

"Well, you might have waited until the tests were done before you called for a consult," Cameron remarked, knowing full well House wouldn't have called unless he was sure he needed someone else.

"Tell the dark one," he muttered, shaking two of the round, brown pills from the bottle into his palm. He popped them in his mouth and swallowed. The faintly bitter taste reminded him of how much he hated having to do that, which wasn't altogether a bad thing. He used to love doing that. Hating it was progress.

House rose from his chair and limped into the conference room, his 'team' following close behind. Without thinking, Cameron went to the coffee pot and fixed House a cup of coffee. It wasn't until she handed it to him and he locked eyes with her that she realized how quickly she'd slipped back into a role that was no longer hers. They shared a sad little smirk before he placed the coffee on the table and grabbed a marker. Facing the whiteboard, he crossed out drugs and syphilis.

"I tested for Epstein –Barr while I was running the tox screen," Foreman said. "It was also negative."

"Drugs, syphilis and mono are out. All the fun ways he could have gotten sick are gone, what's left?" House asked as he crossed mononucleosis out as well.

"Nothing good," Jasper said. "Lymphoma and leukemia."

"Price can check on those when he gets back from his date," House said. The three other occupants of the room exchanged confused glances before deciding it wasn't worth questioning him about. "What else?"

"How about Evan's Syndrome?" Foreman offered.

"No petechiae," Cameron negated him. House noticed her concentrated expression. "Just because its immune related doesn't mean it's autoimmune. How about alloimmunity?"

"Nice … but completely wrong. No transfusions, no grafts. In fact, no previous health issues at all," House said. "What about other drugs, legal ones? Antimalarial or sulphonamides?"

"He could have had gonorrhea and been treated with a sulphonaminde," Jasper said.

"There's no mention of gonorrhea in the history," Foreman said.

"Come on, Foreman. Nobody goes to their regular doctor for an STD. Do you know how many patients I see in the clinic who have health insurance? They come here because they can use a fake name to hide their crotch rot from the ones they love. It's almost romantic; if you consider itching and seepage romantic."

"I'll look into it," Jasper said, rising from the table.

"I'm afraid that would be rather a waste of time," Price said as he entered from the hall. "The Coombs test was negative. It's not immune related."


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Price, Jasper and Foreman exited the conference room with instructions for a few more tests to run before going home for the night. The patient was receiving blood transfusions, which would give them time to find the underlying cause of the anemia. This left House and Cameron alone together. Glancing at his watch, House decided it was close enough to quitting time for him, and told Cameron he was going home. He waited for her response to see if he'd be going alone or not.

"How much worse is it?" she asked.

"I'll manage," House said tiredly.

"How much worse?" she insisted quietly.

"Worse," House said. "Maybe a six on the pain scale."

"When's your next appointment?" Cameron asked.

"Next week," House answered. He moved haltingly back into his office and began packing up his Ipod and other toys. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to act around her. His normal reaction to this line of questioning would have been defensive. Even yesterday, he would have accused her of trying to fix him and sticking her nose in where it wasn't needed. Now he knew that wasn't true and he felt a little lost, like a boat torn free from its mooring.

"Then let's get you home to bed," Cameron said. He shouldered his bag and grimaced at the extra weight. Cameron hesitated, torn between wanting to take it from him and not wanting to start a fight. She looked at him, and House looked back. He really looked, for the first time in a long time, without expecting to see anything. He'd gotten so used to predicting how other people would react that he often found what he was looking for whether it was there or not. This time he left all those preconceived notions behind and really saw her. No pity, no guilt, just love. He handed her the bag.

* * *

"Rob, where's my shampoo?" Jasper called from the bathroom. She had been looking forward to a long, hot shower when she got home from work, only to get home and be practically assaulted by the piles of boxes. They'd decided to start moving his things in slowly, since her place was a little bigger and closer to the hospital, but she hadn't really expected so much stuff so soon.

"It's under the sink, but you really shouldn't use that," Chase called from the living room. Annoyed, but anxious to avoid an argument, Jasper merely opened the cabinet under the sink and took out her shampoo. She turned the shower up as hot as she could stand it and stepped inside. Within minutes, clouds of steam billowed through the room as Jasper was just beginning to wash away the remnants of another exhausting day. Just as Jasper reached for her shampoo the shower curtain pulled back slightly and Chase stuck his head in.

"Mikki …"

"AHH!" Jasper screamed and jumped, slipping on the wet shower floor and cracking her head hard against the tiled wall. "Dammit Rob!" Jasper spat, holding her hand against her now throbbing skull.

"Sorry," Chase said. "You okay?"

"Fine. I'm fine," Jasper said. She sighed a deep, lung-emptying sigh. "Rob, I had a really long day and I'd really just like to drown in here for a little while. Okay?"

"Sure you don't want some company?" Chase asked suggestively.

"Really, really sure," Jasper said. Chase stood back from the shower a little quickly. He was upset, Jasper could tell from the way he pressed his lips into a thin line. He snapped the shower curtain closed and banged the bathroom door shut on his way out. She was beginning to wonder if maybe it wasn't a little too soon for this.

* * *

Foreman looked over the paperwork spread out over his dining room table for easily the hundredth time that evening. He'd never been indecisive before, but as decisions went this was a big one and if working for House all these years had taught him anything, it was to think hard before you acted.

Foreman cast his eyes around the apartment. It was familiar and comfortable, but there was nothing about it that was special. There were no great memories to play out in front of him; there was no laughter to soak the walls or even tears to soak the floors. It just wasn't home.

He sighed, allowing himself that small luxury before he picked up the pen and began signing the papers that were going to change everything about his life.

* * *

Wilson watched Cuddy turning uncomfortably in her sleep. At nearly six months pregnant, she could no longer sleep on her stomach and was usually restless at night. She moaned a little, and Wilson smiled, knowing that soon she would turning over to face him and would begin subtly letting him know that she wasn't really sleeping.

She'd finally gotten over the morning sickness, and even her cravings and weird aversions seemed to be tapering off. She was still a little overly emotional at times, but the pregnancy hormones seemed to be doing one thing and one thing only at the moment, and that one thing was making her horny as a teenager. Wilson wasn't complaining; in fact he rather enjoyed being the pursued rather than the pursuer for a change. They'd settled easily back into their life together and he was more determined than ever not to screw this relationship up.

Just as he'd known she would, Cuddy rolled over once more and let her arm drape over his stomach. In less than her usually quiet fashion, she reached down and began tugging off his sweatpants, apparently too much in the mood to even pretend to be coy. Wilson smiled and lifted his hips to make it easier for her. Before long she was calling out his name and he hers. Sated, Cuddy rolled back over and promptly began snoring. Wilson chuckled, close to sleep himself.

* * *

Price was busy at home poring over every old hematology textbook he could find. Randy's condition was driving him mad. There were just so many possible causes and no good way to narrow them down without doing so many lab tests he feared he might go blind.

Coupled with this nagging puzzle was the fact that there was a slip of paper propped up against the phone on the edge of his desk. He'd already thrown that particular slip of paper away four times today. Twice at the hospital and twice since he'd been home. Yet each time he felt somehow compelled to dig it out of the trash and smooth out its wrinkles. Once he'd actually caught himself with his hand on the receiver.

Price tried desperately to put it out of his mind, but the more he tried to convince himself that he wasn't interested in that phone number, the more frequently he found himself staring at it. When he realized he'd read the same paragraph four times with absolutely no understanding of what it said, or worse yet any memory of the words, he pushed the book from him in utter frustration. Was House right about him?


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: This story has now received the most reviews of anything I've posted here, and it's not even finished yet! That's because all you guys who review are fantastic. You make me hazy!!!**

Chapter 28

House limped into the hospital earlier than normal, although still late. When he and Cameron had first begun dating, he had started coming in on time more mornings than not. Cuddy had been thrilled, until she realized that House coming in on time only meant that House was at the hospital more. More House meant more crying interns, angry nurses and litigious patients. Eventually, as he and Cameron settled into a more regular pattern, he began showing up on time less and less frequently. And while part of Cuddy wanted to go back to harassing him about it, the ever more practical part was afraid he might actually listen.

So when House limped through the lobby at 10:15, Cuddy simply smiled and waved a little half-wave at him from Cameron's office. House half-nodded in her general direction, dropped Cameron a wink, and proceeded to the elevators.

"He looks tired," Cuddy commented with concern. She watched House waiting for the elevator, leaning heavily on his cane, his shoulders slouched and his head hung so low that his chin nearly touched his chest.

"His leg is getting worse," Cameron said quietly. There was no point in denying it to Cuddy. Even if it wasn't completely evident in House's posture, Cuddy was sure to have seen his name in Dr. Jessup's trials.

"When's his next appointment?" Cuddy asked.

"Next week," Cameron said more quietly still. She had many reservations about this surgery, chief among them the possibility that he could actually end up worse off than he was currently. She would stand by whatever decision he made; she just hoped he was making the right one.

"I'm praying for him Allison. I know he doesn't believe in God, but it can't hurt," Cuddy said with a sad smile.

"No, it can't," Cameron murmured, as she watched House board the elevator. His face was pained when he turned around and her heart broke just a little. She didn't want to fix him, but if she could fix his leg she would, just to never have to see that look on his face again.

* * *

House entered his office from the hall, dropping his bag on the desk and looking over the mail Jasper had left for him. It was more than Cameron would have left; it seemed Jasper hadn't quite had the optimism about his acceptance of cases or speaking requests beaten out of her yet. House noticed the orange file underneath the neat stack of envelopes and cringed. Orange meant it was from personnel, or Human Resources, whatever the hell they were calling themselves now. Orange meant paperwork, and that definitely did not interest him.

Desiring nothing more than a hot cup of coffee and a little Monster Jam, House limped into the conference room to check in with whatever duckling was hanging around. He expected at least one, if not more of them, to be down in the lab running the thousand or so tests it would take to narrow down Randy's condition.

When House entered the conference room he literally took a step back. He hadn't noticed it before, because the blinds on the office side were drawn, but it looked like he'd finally succeeded and driven one of his fellows off the deep end. _Crap_, he thought, _this means another orange folder._

The whiteboard had been abandoned, apparently too small for this particular project. Every inch of the conference table was covered in precisely lined columns of yellow sticky notes, as was a good portion of the floor, the desk in the corner and every wall that wasn't glass. The glass walls were covered in silver marker; columns and columns of symptoms and diseases in what was definitely the most impressive display of OCD House had ever seen.

And in the midst of it all was Price. Price, the reserved, well-mannered, meticulously groomed one was now dashing back and forth among his notes; his lab coat flapped behind him as he darted from the conference table to the hall side wall to cross off a row of scribbles. His tie was loose, his shirt was wrinkled and his hair stuck up in every conceivable direction. If it hadn't been so frightening, it would have been funny. But one look at his eyes and House quickly realized this was no laughing matter.

Price looked as though he hadn't slept a wink. His face was drawn and haggard, with even the hint of a five o'clock shadow. But his eyes. His eyes were frantic, manic almost. They darted back and forth between the walls with greater speed than his legs could manage. And all the while he was mumbling to himself under his breath.

Jasper and Foreman stood near the coffee pot, the only surface in the room that wasn't covered in sticky notes. Actually, judging by how still they were, House was surprised they weren't covered in sticky notes. He made his way over to them, carefully avoiding stepping on any of the notes on the floor, lest he set Price off.

"What the hell is this?" House asked, too much in shock to even snark.

"We found him like this when we came in," Foreman said. "I tried to talk to him, but it's like he can't even hear me."

"So why are we watching him?" House asked again. Foreman and Jasper looked at each other and shrugged.

"I tried to get his attention by touching his arm and he almost decked me," Jasper said. "We were waiting for you."

"So he could deck me?" House asked. "How sweet."

"What do we do?" Foreman asked.

"Price!" House shouted. He got no response. Price never even turned around. House placed his fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly. Nothing. "Rupert!"

At this, Price whipped around. It seemed for the first he noticed there were other people in the room. He looked from Foreman to Jasper and finally House in mounting confusion. Price dropped his marker on the floor and ran his hands through his hair.

"I can't see anything but these pages," Price said. "Pages and pages of genetic conditions, liver diseases, kidney diseases, toxin, poisons, drug interactions. They won't stop flashing," Price whispered, sinking quietly to the floor. The displaced air around him caused the sticky notes to flutter softly.

"Get him out of here," House said to Jasper. "Take him down to the cafeteria and get him something to eat and a cup of anything that doesn't have caffeine in it. I'll talk to Cuddy about getting him some sort of sedative."

Jasper nodded, walking over to Price and taking him by the arm. Price looked up at her and Jasper smiled reassuringly. The look on his face was awful; it was like finding a lost child at the mall, and that was a scary look on an adult.

"Clean this stuff up so he doesn't see it again," House said to Foreman. "I'm going to see Cuddy and then the patient. Maybe we can borrow Cameron for a little while until Price comes back to Earth." Foreman nodded and began plucking sticky notes from the bookshelves. House limped slowly toward Wilson's office. This was going to be a very long day.

* * *

House walked right past Cameron and into Cuddy's office. Cameron barely even bothered to look up, assuming it was something to do with his current patient. House paused on the inside of Cuddy's door and debated whether or not to shut it behind him. He didn't really care if Cameron heard about Price, but he did care if she heard he suspected that it might be even a little bit his fault.

"What now?" Cuddy asked without looking up from the paperwork on her desk. Not even Wilson walked into her office without knocking; it could only be House.

"Need a room for a new patient," House said.

"You don't have a new patient," Cuddy replied, still not looking at him.

"I also need a mild sedative, a psychiatrist with a few hours to kill and no charts," House continued as though Cuddy hadn't spoken. At the 'no charts', Cuddy finally lifted her head from her desk.

"Why no charts?" Cuddy asked suspiciously.

"Obviously, I want to have some fun poking this guy and I don't want to leave a paper trail," House answered sarcastically.

"House," Cuddy huffed.

"It's Price," House said, now avoiding meeting Cuddy's eyes.

"What's wrong with him?" Cuddy asked.

"Mental exhaustion?" House suggested. His tone of voice made it clear to Cuddy that was not all it was and even worse, whatever it was House felt at least marginally responsible, perhaps even guilty.

"What did you do?" Cuddy demanded.

"This last case seems to have gotten the better of him. The dark one and the heavy one found him this morning wigging out," House said.

"Define 'wigging out' in medical terms," Cuddy said sharply.

"He rewrote about a hundred pages of medical texts on sticky notes and my walls," House told her.

Cuddy closed her eyes and counted to ten. She counted to ten again. And a third time. When she finally felt like her blood pressure wasn't dangerous to the baby, she opened her eyes and looked at House.

"What did you do?" Cuddy demanded again. "If it was just the case, you wouldn't have that look." House stared at her blankly. "That look that says 'I did a bad thing and hope Cuddy doesn't find out about it'. I know that look."

"You know, you just …" House began but quickly faded out. The fact was he could have pushed Price a little too hard on the whole gay thing. "Yeah, so I paid one of the lab techs to give Price his phone number." House looked down at his shoes while he made this confession.

"Why would you do that?" Cuddy asked, now rubbing her temples to ward off the headache she could begin forming behind her right eye.

"He kissed Foreman," House answered, as if that explained everything.

"I know that. What does that have to do with … You think he's gay?" Cuddy asked.

"I have no idea," House replied. "But I think he thinks he's gay and he doesn't want to be."

"And so you naturally decided to exploit the fact that your employee is currently having an existential crisis for … what, your own personal entertainment?" Cuddy was nearly shouting now and she could feel a vein in her forehead throbbing. She closed her eyes again and this time counted to fifty. Without opening her eyes, because she really felt like if she saw even the slightest hint of smugness on House's face she would hurl her desk lamp at his head, she continued speaking. "Why no charts?"

"If we give him a chart, then we have to use his name and the board finds out and the guy probably loses his job. Geez, how insensitive," House said.

"How insensi …," Cuddy began, her eyes flying open. "Never mind. Fine. Get him upstairs. _I_ will get a room, _I_ will get him a sedative and a psychiatrist and _YOU_ will go nowhere near him," Cuddy ordered.

"Great. Need to borrow Cameron, too," House said as he limped toward the door.

"No," Cuddy barked. "I'm going to be upstairs cleaning up this mess; she needs to be down here where she belongs. You and the other two will just have to manage on your own." House opened his mouth to whine but Cuddy silenced him with a glare. "Get out."

House shuffled past Cameron with downcast eyes. Cameron was curious what was going on, but if House was getting reamed by Cuddy about something he would definitely not want to tell her about it without an hour or so to pout first. So Cameron bit her tongue and let House pass without questioning him.

Once House had entered the elevators, Cuddy stepped out of her office to Cameron's. Cameron noticed the flush on her face immediately, and realized whatever House had done was not his typical annoying stunt. Cameron was concerned, not just for House but for Cuddy as well. Extra stress was so bad for her and the baby, and Cameron knew from Jimmy that she was actually under instructions to try to reduce stress.

"Allison, I'll be upstairs for a little while. I'm not really sure how long. I'll have my pager if you need me for something," Cuddy said. She let one hand drift to her temple and rub it gently, still trying to ward off that headache.

"Can I help?" Cameron asked. Cuddy shook her head slightly and winced. "Lisa, I don't always take his side. Actually, I hardly ever take his side. You can trust me," Cameron stressed.

"I really need as few people involved in this as possible for right now. I'll let you know if there's something I need," Cuddy promised. She walked out of the office leaving Cameron confused, and annoyed at House for reasons she didn't even know.

* * *

"How is he?" Foreman asked Jasper as she came into the conference room.

"He's with Cuddy now. He seems … calmer. He keeps mumbling under his breath," Jasper said as she sunk wearily into a chair at the table.

"Mumbling what?" Foreman asked. He wasn't worried; it was more like concerned curiosity.

"A phone number," Jasper said. "At least, I think it's a phone number. He won't say. He just stares kind of dully when you ask him." Jasper shook herself. The last hour she'd spent with Price had been weird, and she couldn't quite help but feeling a little responsible. She kept thinking over his behavior the past few days but nothing really stood out. She supposed she really just didn't know him well enough to tell; after all, he'd only been working with them a short time.

"What does a phone number have to do with our case?" Foreman wondered aloud.

"Nothing," House said, limping in from his office. He stood by the whiteboard and scratched his thumb across his forehead. "We're down our hematologist and we have a patient with a rare blood disorder. I see a very long night ahead for the two of you."

Foreman and Jasper just rolled their eyes in exasperation. Foreman took out the file, which was now thick with piles of sticky notes. He spread them out on the table under House's watchful eye. Foreman just shrugged. Just because Price was having some kind of breakdown didn't make his medical knowledge useless. At the least, this would save them some research.

"Hemoglobin C, E or H disease, Hypersplenism, Leishmaniasis, Thalassemia," House read from over Foreman's shoulder. "Arsenic poisoning?"

"We ruled out food poisoning for his initial symptoms because his girlfriend wasn't sick. Maybe there's a reason she's not sick," Foreman said.

"Could be. What's the other pile?" House asked, motioning to a second stack of notes Foreman had not unpacked.

"Only about fifty other possible causes for the anemia," Foreman replied.

"Only fifty?" House asked. "You guys start on these. I'm going to talk to the patient and the girlfriend."


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: Must I say that I don't own them? Don't you know how depressing that is? Don't make me do it!**

Chapter 29

"I didn't poison Randy!" his girlfriend, Jessica, shouted at House in the hall. To their credit, the nurses barely turned to look. Patients screaming at House were commonplace, and hardly worth noticing.

"I didn't say you had," House objected.

"No, you just asked if I might know how arsenic would have gotten into his food. It would only get there if someone put it there and the only reason I would know is if I did it!" Jessica shouted some more. "Just because I'm young doesn't make me stupid."

"No, you're a person, that's what makes you stupid," House said, only half under his breath.

"Is that what's keeping you from figuring out what's wrong with Randy?" Jessica asked, the anger now dissipated and replaced by fear.

House looked away with unease. This was exactly why he avoided patients and their families at all costs. It was so much easier not to care when you didn't have to watch them cry. He shifted his weight and tapped his cane on the floor a few times. Jessica moved back toward the glass wall that now separated her from Randy. Pressing her hands against the glass, she rested her forehead on the wall. House took in the way her long brown hair was pulled into a sloppy ponytail, the tense set of her shoulders and the rigid posture of her otherwise supple body and decided she probably wasn't poisoning him.

"He's a film student," Jessica said to the glass. House limped slightly closer so he could see the patient through the glass. He was sleeping; the transfusions had helped to return some of the color to his face and the pale scruff that was now present on his cheeks helped to allay the gaunt, skeletal look he'd been sporting the previous day. "He just got a grant for his first independent documentary. It's about films based on real life events and how they get warped by Hollywood. He's basing it on Silence of the Lambs and Hannibal Lecter." Jessica laughed bitterly. "We were celebrating. He ordered fava beans. He said it fit."

"There are a lot of genetic conditions we're still testing for. It's going to take some time to narrow it down, but … fava beans?" House asked.

"Yeah. It was a quote from the movie," Jessica began to explain.

"I've seen it. Has he ever eaten fava beans before?" House asked her.

"I don't know. I don't think so. Why?" Jessica asked, finally ripping her eyes from Randy's sleeping form and turning to face House. But House was already rounding the corner.

House reached the conference room and sat at the table, flinging open the file Foreman had left behind. Buried somewhere in this pile was the information House was looking for. He began flipping through the sticky notes, crumpling the ones that weren't his answer and dropping them to the floor.

After several minutes, Foreman and Jasper approached from the hall. They'd come back to retrieve Foreman's notes and a few text books to help them narrow down their lab tests. To find House sitting at the conference table, surrounded by crumpled sticky notes strewn haphazardly across the desk and floor was eerily reminiscent of Price's descent into madness early that morning.

"And then there were two," Foreman said to Jasper. She only nodded in disbelief. They couldn't really have both gone insane on the same day, could they?

"I'm not crazy," House said without turning around or acknowledging their presence. Jasper sighed in relief while Foreman predictably rolled his eyes. They watched House read and crumple sticky notes for a minute or two before he stopped. The whole posture of his body tensed for a moment and then relaxed visibly. Foreman would have recognized the facial expression had he seen it, but it really wasn't necessary. House stood from the table and placed the sticky note on the wall. He turned to Foreman. "I thought I told you to clean that stuff up?" House said before limping from the room.

* * *

"Glucose-6-phosphate deficiency," Foreman repeated to Randy and Jessica. "It's also known as Favism. Your red blood cells are lacking in the G-6-phosphate dehydrogenase. That enzyme helps protect red blood cells from oxidation. Fava beans contain vicine, divicine, convicine and isouramil, which are all oxidants. Your red blood cells can't protect themselves from these oxidants and so they become damaged. There are some drugs and other chemicals that can cause the same reaction; obviously you've never been exposed to any of them."

"So what now?" Randy asked.

"We've already given you the necessary blood transfusions to replace the red blood cells that were destroyed. The best course of action is avoiding any of the drugs or foods that can trigger another hemolytic crisis. We'll give a listing of medications and foods to avoid in the future," Foreman said.

"And that's it?" Randy asked, glancing from Foreman to Jasper and then to Jessica in disbelief.

"That's it," Foreman said.

* * *

House approached the room where he knew Cuddy had put Price cautiously. Cuddy was already pissed; actually she was angrier than he'd seen her in quite some time. The last thing he needed now was to get caught. He wasn't concerned about Price so much as his own hide. If he actually had anything to do with the little episode, he'd probably get sued. Again.

"I wouldn't go in there if I were you," Quig warned from the nearby nurse's station. House hung his head in shame. He had really hoped Quig wouldn't be the one to get called in for this.

"That bad?" House asked.

"No. Cuddy's in there checking on him right now," Quig said. "He's fine. Well, comparatively speaking. He won't be climbing the clock tower with a rifle any time soon." House wiped his brow in a mock 'whew' gesture. Quig frowned. "As long as a certain a$$ I know stays away from him for a few days while we sort this out."

House nodded his head in understanding. There were very few people, less than a handful really, whose opinion mattered to him. Quig was one of them. He didn't want Quig to think he was a monster.

"I didn't think it would be such a big deal," House said.

"You never do," Quig answered. House sighed impatiently. He felt a lecture coming on. "You may be able to block out virtually all emotion and reject other's opinions of you out of hand. Others aren't so skilled." Quig walked away. He couldn't discuss Price's current situation any further and he had no desire to argue with House. This was the first time since they'd met that Quig felt he didn't like the man.

"House!" Cuddy hissed as she exited Price's room. "I thought I told you to stay away from here."

"I was concerned," House said.

"You were not," Cuddy growled at him. She was livid. She'd heard from Price that House had actually been tormenting him for weeks about his sexual preferences. Giving out his phone number to male staff members and writing the most juvenile remarks on the men's locker room walls; this last stunt had really been the last straw. If it didn't mean that she'd have to report Price's current condition, she would suspend him on the spot. "He's going home in a few hours and taking a week off. You will not speak to him; you will not contact him in any way. You will not mention this to anyone in the hospital, including your team. I will decide what is appropriate to tell them."

House opened his mouth to protest and he could swear he could physically see Cuddy's blood boil. She flushed red from her forehead to her pregnancy enhanced bosom and hitched in a breath to cut him down. But before she could get the words out she swayed slightly. Before House could even reach her, Cuddy had collapsed in a heap on the floor.

* * *

House sat in what had to be the most uncomfortable chair he'd ever sat in, deep in the corner shadows of Cuddy's hospital room. Wilson was in surgery; House hadn't been able to reach him yet. He hadn't wanted to call Cameron, for oh so many reasons. Instead he'd watched as the nearly frantic nurses paged Cuddy's OB and got her into a room. House was waiting for either Wilson or Dr. Huntley to arrive.

"Jimmy?" Cuddy's voice called softly from the bed. House allowed his eyes to slip closed in frustration. He had wanted to be gone when she woke up.

"He's in surgery," House said from the corner. "He'll be here soon."

"House?" Cuddy asked. She sat up in the bed and strained her eyes toward the corner where he was lurking. "What happened?"

"You fainted," House said matter-of-factly. "Skip breakfast?"

"It's my blood pressure," Cuddy said morosely as she flopped back against the bed. "It's been a little elevated lately." At this she shot him a venomous glare. "_Stress_ is bad for high blood pressure, in case you'd forgotten."

House just hung his head. He wasn't a heartless man, despite what people might say. He didn't want to upset Cuddy. In fact, this hadn't been about Cuddy at all. However, innocent bystanders did have a tendency to get swept up in his wake. It was an unfortunate side effect of his naturally meddlesome nature that he very carefully avoided thinking about.

"I've got to get back to Price before one of the nurses goes in there," Cuddy said as she attempted to get out of bed. House rose from his spot in the corner and placed a restraining hand on her shoulder.

"Quig is with him," House said. "The whole hospital won't fall apart if you stop for one minute. Are you trying to have a miscarriage?"

Cuddy swung her eyes to House's swiftly and with malice. His expression almost passed for contrite but Cuddy was unmoved. That was probably one of the cruelest things she had ever heard from his mouth. And over the years he'd worked for her and the years before that she had heard plenty.

"House, you're going to walk out of this room. You are going to your office and pack up your things. Then you are going home. You are not going to return to work until Price is ready to return. You're suspended indefinitely," Cuddy said. Her voice remained calm and level but her tone left no doubt that she was completely serious.

"Cuddy, you can't …" House protested, but Cuddy cut him off.

"I can, and I am. House, this is too much, even for you. You intentionally harassed your employee with regard to his sexual orientation until he was driven to a breakdown. Maybe I never spelled it out for you, but that's a bad thing," Cuddy berated him. "When Price has recovered enough to return to work you can come back. _After_ you've written a formal letter of apology to him and to Foreman and Jasper for the extra work they'll be taking on in his absence."

"What am I supposed to do if he won't come back?" House asked. He had finally done it; he had finally gone too far for even Cuddy to let it slide.

"If he won't come back to work for you we'll offer him a position somewhere else in the hospital," Cuddy said. "Go home."

House started to protest again but was interrupted this time by Dr. Huntley's arrival. House walked silently from the room, where he was met by a frantic Wilson.

"House what the hell happened?" Wilson asked. House shook his head and kept walking. He went to his office, packed up his things and limped to the elevators. He rode down to the lobby and limped through it with his eyes trained purposefully on the floor. He ignored Cameron's shouts and exited. He climbed onto his bike and sped out of the parking lot, leaving a very confused Allison Cameron jogging to a halt in a cloud of exhaust fumes.

* * *

Cameron rode the elevator upstairs to the diagnostics floor with a steadily growing unease. Whatever House had done was obviously much worse than even she had anticipated this morning. His departure from the hospital could only be described as huffy. Cameron's main concern at this point was a very important distinction. Was it voluntary?

Cameron stepped out of the elevators and saw Quig milling about at the nurse's station. It was unusual to see him anywhere in the hospital that wasn't the psychiatric ward or his office; Cameron assumed he had something to do with whatever was going on. She approached him nervously.

"Quig? What are you doing here?" Cameron asked. She wouldn't expect him to breach the doctor-patient confidentiality but she hoped he could at least clue her in.

"I'm helping Dr. Cuddy with a … situation," Quig said. "I can't really say anything else about that. Dr. Cuddy fainted; she's in there with Dr. Huntley and Dr. Wilson now." Quig indicated a room with the blinds drawn just a few paces down the hall.

"She fainted? Is she okay? What about the baby? And what did House have to do with all this?" Cameron peppered Quig with questions more rapidly than he could possibly have answered them.

"I don't know anything about Dr. Cuddy other than what I just told you and I can't tell you any of the other things I do know," Quig replied. He could sense Cameron's increasing frustration and was relieved when Dr. Wilson stepped out of Dr. Cuddy's room. Cameron leapt at him.

"Jimmy, is she okay? The baby?" Cameron asked.

"She's okay, for now. Her blood pressure has been high and it shot up suddenly and she fainted. The baby is fine," Wilson said. He rubbed the back of his neck vigorously with his right hand while gesturing wildly with his left.

"Are you okay?" Cameron asked. Wilson stopped and let his arms drop. He looked away from Cameron and then back, revealing tears forming in his eyes. Cameron enveloped him in a warm hug which Wilson gratefully returned.

"She wants to see you," Wilson said in her ear. Cameron nodded. She gave Wilson one final squeeze and released him. They walked into Cuddy's room together as Dr. Huntley was reviewing her chart.

"Lisa, I'm going to recommend a week's bed rest," Dr. Huntley said. He held up a hand to stop Cuddy's protest before she could voice it. Dr. Huntley was a tiny man, barely Cameron's height and thin as a rail. Despite his size, his presence commanded respect when it came to his patients. "No arguments. This is the second time you've had a stress related complication that I know about it. I'm sure there have been others that you've ignored out of sheer obstinance. You will go home and rest for no less than a week. Doctor's orders."

Dr. Huntley nodded to Wilson on his way out and Cuddy sighed heavily. This was all of her worst fears come true at once. She was losing control of the hospital and the baby's health and her own were in jeopardy. It couldn't possibly get worse.


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: This may be the longest chapter I've ever posted. Wow. I hope that means lot of reviews (hint, hint).**

Chapter 30

Cameron had rarely felt so conflicted. She wanted to cry, to scream, to beat her fists against something and to go back to her office and pretend she didn't know about any of this. She was so disappointed in House she ached. But that wasn't what made her want to cry; what made her want to cry was the fact that she couldn't really be surprised. She supposed the time they'd spent together and the softer side of him that she'd finally been allowed to see had made her forget how insensitive he was to the rest of the world. She was so furious with him she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Had he still been at the hospital she wasn't sure how she'd deal with it but she wanted to pound her fists against him in rhythm with her pounding heart.

She wasn't ready to take on all the responsibilities that would shortly become hers. Cuddy was going to be home for a week; a week that would leave Cameron in charge of the hospital. She wasn't ready for that and she knew it. But Cuddy's health was more important than her insecurity. At least it was a week that she wouldn't have to deal with House.

Cameron looked from Cuddy to Wilson and steeled herself for what she was about to say. She was angry, she was disappointed and she was hurt. But she still loved House, and she couldn't let him lose his job.

"Lisa, I'm so sorry that he did this," Cameron started. "And you're absolutely right to want to suspend him."

"Allison, I can't let him get away with this," Cuddy said resolutely.

"And you shouldn't," Cameron agreed quickly. "But Lisa, how can you suspend House for what he did to Price without telling the board about Price's condition? You can't punish House and protect Price at the same time."

Cuddy sighed. She knew Cameron was right about that. She had promised Price that she would keep this secret from the board. She had told House he was suspended in anger. Even though she was right to suspend him, she couldn't just suspend a doctor without having to answer to the board of directors.

"Lisa, he still has a month left of his probationary period with the board. A suspension now will finish him. Not even you would be able to save his job. And no matter how much we try to protect Price, if we have to tell the board about what happened word will get out. It won't matter what House did to him; his reputation will be ruined. No other hospital will want to employ an emotionally unstable doctor." Cameron argued. "There has to be another way."

"Sick leave," Wilson interjected. Both Cameron and Cuddy turned and looked at him with surprise. "They both work the clinic. They come into contact with infectious patients all the time. You could tell the board they were both exposed to something and have them take a week off to recuperate."

"That would be better for Price," Cameron said. "Foreman and Jasper are the only other ones who know what happened this morning. They'll keep it quiet."

"And where does that leave House?" Cuddy asked. "It protects Price and gives him a chance to work this out and House gets off."

"Not if you don't tell him he's not suspended," Cameron suggested. "We're the only ones who know the truth; we don't have to tell him. When he gets back, tell him you had to go to the mat for him to keep his job. Price is protected, House gets his punishment and you'll come out looking like the hero to both of them."

Cuddy closed her eyes and rested her head back against her hospital bed to consider what Cameron and Wilson were suggesting. Price was a young doctor and to have a breakdown like this on his records, even at the hands of a maniacal bastard like House, would be damaging to his career. The board meetings were confidential; nobody else would ever know what she really told them.

"What would we say they were exposed to?" Cuddy asked. Cameron visibly relaxed. House wouldn't lose his job. This time.

* * *

Cameron cleared her throat and fidgeted nervously again. The last time she'd been in attendance at a board meeting it had been without invitation and she had been basically pleading for House's job. Although her presence at this meeting was under less auspicious circumstances she was about to lie to the board to save his job. Again. The irony wasn't lost on her. She only hoped he would appreciate it.

As the other board members assembled themselves around the expansive mahogany conference table Wilson smiled at Cameron supportively. He vividly remembered his first board meeting at the hospital and how nervous he'd been. He hadn't even been required to speak, never mind announce he was taking over the hospital's management and then lying about the most infamous doctor on staff. If she got through this without fainting Wilson thought she deserved a medal.

When all the seats had been filled and Cameron felt enough time had elapsed for pleasantries to be exchanged she cleared her throat quietly. Too quietly it seemed, as the chatter continued in front of her. She cleared her throat again more loudly.

"Excuse me," Cameron squeaked. She took a deep breath and tried again. "Excuse me; can we call this meeting to order please?"

"Aren't we waiting for Dr. Cuddy?" one of the board members asked. He was an older man; Cameron thought she vaguely recognized him as a surgeon.

"No, and that's one of the first items on our agenda today." The other members of the board rearranged themselves to stare at this slip of a woman who was speaking. Cameron was suddenly met with ten pairs of eyes boring into her; the eleventh pair flashed at her warmly. "Dr. Cuddy is currently experiencing some minor pregnancy related complications and under the advice of her doctor is taking a week long medical leave. I will be filling in for her temporarily in her capacity as Dean."

"What sort of complications?" one of the female board members asked. She was not a doctor, if her lack of a lab coat was any indication.

"Dr. Cuddy and her physician didn't inform me of any specifics. Only that it was a minor and quite common pregnancy complication," Cameron responded. That wasn't entirely true, but it was what Cuddy had asked Cameron to say. "Dr. Cuddy assures me that she will be back and in fine form a week from now." Cameron smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring manner.

"Also taking a week long medical leave will be Dr. Price and Dr. House," Cameron said quickly. It was her sincere hope that by mentioning both names together the other doctors on the board would assume they'd contracted something contagious.

"Why?" asked that same female member. Cameron turned to face her and hated her at first glance. She was an ordinary looking woman, well dressed and well groomed. _Probably a lawyer,_ Cameron thought. _I don't even know her name,_ Cameron realized.

"Dr. Price and Dr. House have both been exposed to a virulent strain of Influenza," Cameron announced. "Dr. Cuddy and I both felt it would be ill-advised to have them treating patients while they're so highly contagious, especially since Drs. Price and House routinely treat patients already afflicted with serious conditions."

The rest of the board seemed to find nothing unusual about two doctors in the same department being exposed to the same illness and the matter was dropped. Cameron quickly ran through the remaining items on the agenda, most of which too boring to even garner comments. When the last of board members, excluding Wilson, had exited the conference room Cameron slumped down in her chair and allowed a moan to escape her lips.

"No wonder Lisa has high blood pressure!" she exclaimed. "It's a wonder she doesn't have an ulcer to go with it. "

"You were fantastic," Wilson said, moving from his seat to perch himself on the edge of the table beside her. "I almost believed you."

"I'm not sure that's a good thing," Cameron replied.

"If you're going to be an administrator, you're going to have to get used to lying and telling people what they want to hear," Wilson said. "It's not pretty, but I'm afraid it's true."

"Maybe I'm not cut out for this sort of work," Cameron said softly. She felt awful about what she'd just done.

"Allison, you can't think of it that way. Don't think of it in terms of what you did, but in terms of what you accomplished. You prevented the board from firing the best doctor on staff and you protected a young man's career and reputation," Wilson said.

"When you say it like that, it almost sounds like a good thing," Cameron said doubtfully.

"Everybody lies," Wilson said. "If it accomplishes a good thing without hurting anyone you just have to let it go."

"Are you sure you're an oncologist and not a philosopher?" Cameron asked him as she straightened her papers and stood to leave.

"Ah, young grasshopper, there is much I can teach you," Wilson replied mysteriously as he pushed open the door for Cameron.

"Yes master," Cameron replied with a smile.

* * *

Cameron sat in House's chair and waited for Foreman and Jasper to arrive. At least this would be easier than the board meeting. While she waited, Cameron picked up House's tennis ball and rolled it between her hands. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back into the leather of his chair. It smelled faintly of House and Cameron breathed deeply. She was slowly feeling less enraged; she would probably now say she was at a mild furious. Smelling him helped.

"Dr. House, you're looking lovely today," Foreman joked as he walked into the office. Cameron sat up in the chair and dropped the tennis ball back on the desk. Jasper walked in and Cameron asked her to close the door.

"I need to talk to the two of you privately," Cameron said, motioning for them to sit. "Dr. Cuddy and I have decided we're not going to tell the board about Price. It's too early in his career and we don't want him to get saddled with a bad reputation. Especially since it was directly related to his mistreatment at the hands of one of our own doctors. There's just no way to spin this that looks good for anyone."

Foreman seemed surprised to hear Cameron talking about this so calmly. He figured if anyone would be outraged about House's treatment of Price, it would be Cameron. Then again, taking in the tense set of her shoulders and the vein throbbing in her forehead, maybe she wasn't as calm as she seemed.

"For now, Dr. Price is on medical leave as a result of his exposure to influenza," Cameron said. Foreman and Jasper both nodded their understanding and agreement. "House is on medical leave for the same reason."

"You're joking," Foreman spat.

"House believes he is suspended," Cameron said. "Foreman, I know this seems unfair. But we can't suspend House for harassing Price without telling the board about Price. And as unfair as it sounds, its more important for us to protect Price and the hospital's reputation than it is to punish House. He thinks he's been suspended, and as long as you don't tell anyone otherwise, that's what he's going to continue to think. I can't force you to agree, but I hope you will for Price's sake."

Foreman stewed about this for a minute or two before nodded his assent. He decided it just wasn't worth his time and energy, not anymore. Jasper agreed as well. She felt like Price deserved a chance to resolve this on his own.

"Cameron," Foreman said as he was standing to leave. He walked to the desk and unburied the orange folder House had ignored. "He needs to sign these by Friday." Cameron nodded and accepted the folder.

* * *

"Rupert, I hope you understand why I can't continue to serve as your therapist once you've left the hospital today," Quig said to Price as he scribbled some notes on a pad. "Dr. House is already my patient, and it would be a serious conflict of interests for me to continue to see both of you at this point."

"I understand," Price said.

"That being said, I'd feel much better, and I know you would too, if you'd tell me what the notes were all about this morning," Quig pressed.

Price looked away. From his seated position on the hospital bed, he could see clearly out the window into the slowly darkening night. The sky was a deep purple, with the faintest tinges of orange along the horizon as the sun descended the final few inches into oblivion. Above the gently swaying trees, a lone star shone. Price sighed at the serenity outside. He envied it.

"Have you ever been unable to stop thinking about something?" Price asked Quig. He continued to stare out the window, watching the orange disappear from the sky. "I mean literally been unable to control something from coming into your mind, to the point where you can barely even function?"

"No, I can't say that I have," Quig answered.

"I could not stop seeing that phone number," Price said. "I have a photographic memory. I see words and numbers, like pictures. No matter what I did, I couldn't stop seeing that slip of paper. And every time that picture came into my mind, I was forced to consider that perhaps Dr. House had been right about me all along."

"And what was Dr. House right about?" Quig asked. He knew, of course, but Price needed to say it out loud.

"That I'm gay," Price said. He laughed. "How could he know that?"

"It's not always easy to accept things about ourselves," Quig said. "We're often the last person to see or be aware of something that can be quite obvious to others." Quig paused for a minute and when it seemed Price had no comment he continued. "Was Dr. House right?"

Price finally looked away from the window and back at Quig.

"Yes," Price whispered. "He was right."

"And?"

"And my father will likely never speak to me again. I'll be ostracized from my family and friends in London. I can't ever return to the church."

"And?" Quig persisted.

"And I guess I'll have to learn to live with that," Price said quietly. He stared at his hands plucking at the sheets on the bed. "I can live with that."

"And the notes?"

"I tried to block out the phone number by replacing it with other pictures. I can't remember everything I've ever read. Eventually pictures get replaced. I thought, perhaps, if I read enough pages I could wipe out that phone number," Price said. He smiled ruefully. "I may have over done it."

"I think that's a safe conclusion," Quig agreed. "I'm going to give you the name of another psychiatrist, one who doesn't work here at PPTH. He'll be waiting for your call tomorrow. I'd recommend scheduling an appointment as soon as possible," Quig handed Price a business card. "You'll be fine, Rupert."

"I'll be fine," Price repeated. His voice was more confident than Quig had heard all day. Satisfied that was the truth, and Price would be fine, they exited the room together.

* * *

Exhausted, Cameron closed the door to her apartment behind her and slid to the floor in a heap. She couldn't even fathom making it to her bedroom. She would just sleep right there on the floor. Content with this decision, Cameron gathered her jacket into something resembling a pillow and curled into the fetal position. Just as her eyes began to close, the tip of a cane came into view before her.

"Comfy?" his gravelly voice floated down to her.

"Very," Cameron replied. She wasn't eager to discuss this with him. "Why are you here?"

"I've got no place better to be," he said.

"Touching," Cameron replied. There was no mistaking the disappointment and anger in her tone. She should have known he'd be here; it was just the perfect ending to an utterly wretched day.

"You're angry," he said.

"You got that did you?" Cameron responded. If she stayed where she was, she wouldn't be able to get him to leave. Wearily, Cameron peeled herself from the floor and stood before him. "I'm tired. I had an incredibly difficult day and I just want to go to sleep. We can talk about this some other time." She opened the door, shoving her jacket and bag away with her foot, and motioned for him to leave.

House hesitated. First Quig and now Cameron, two of the maybe four or five people whose opinions mattered to him, didn't want anything to do with him today. He needed to know they were okay. He stepped through the doorway and stopped on the other side. He turned back.

"I get that you're angry. But it doesn't really have anything to do with you," House said.

"It does now," Cameron replied. House frowned at this response. "When you stressed Cuddy into a hypertensive crisis and she was forced to take a medical leave, that's when it started having something to do with me."

House stared guiltily at his shoes. He always caused Cuddy stress, but even he would admit this was more than her fair share. And now Cuddy was out on medical leave. Cuddy was out. That left Cameron in charge.

"As the acting Dean, you can reverse my suspension," House said. He glanced up quickly to gauge her reaction and saw pretty much what he'd expected, a mixture of disbelief and disgust.

"No, I can't," Cameron said angrily. "You're not even going to ask about her or the baby." It wasn't really a question, she knew he wasn't.

"Can't," House asked, "or won't?"

"Both," Cameron replied. House looked at her and then looked away. He could stand her being angry, but it was harder to stomach the disappointment that she was in no way hiding. "Goodnight," Cameron said firmly as she closed the door.


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: Wow, another super-long chapter. Are you guys lucky or what??? Now, tell me how much you love me so that my muse will keep working overtime. She's fickle and demands constant praise and attention. Hmm ... she's not unlike House in that way.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, not now, not ever. Boo hoo.**

Chapter 31

House lifted the phone to call Cuddy about his suspension when Cameron's words echoed in his mind. Normally, when House experienced what he referred to as a 'fit of conscience', it was Wilson's voice he heard. He ruminated momentarily about this change and how it reflected his changing relationships. House rubbed the phone against his chin. Before he could come to a decision about harassing Cuddy, the phone rang in his hands. Hoping it was Cameron he answered without checking the caller ID.

"House."

"Greg," Blythe replied in surprise. "What are you doing home in the middle of the day dear?"

"Oh, just taking a little vacation from work," House lied.

"Suspended again?" Blythe reproached him. "Oh Gregory, what did you do?"

"It's not important," House sighed. He hated that even when he tried to lie to his mother she knew the truth.

"It's important to someone, or you wouldn't have been suspended," Blythe said. She knew Greg's forthrightness frequently got him into trouble, but she couldn't help but be disappointed when she knew he'd done something he should be ashamed of. That wasn't the man she'd raised.

"Mom, I don't really want to talk about it," House said tiredly. If hearing disappointment from Cameron was bad, hearing it from his mother was infinitely worse. This was exactly why he usually screened his calls.

"Well then let's talk about something happier," Blythe agreed. If there was one thing the House family excelled at, it was letting things drop. "Your father and I are going to be in New York this week and we thought maybe we'd drive down to Princeton and see our son and his fiancée."

House panicked. Dinner with Cameron and his parents was a terrifying prospect. He floundered for any possible excuse. His mother would recognize any lie instantly and unfortunately for House that was all that came to mind.

"Greg?" Blythe interrupted his panic. "We could come down on Friday, if that's convenient for you."

"Friday," House repeated, trying to make it sound as though he was mentally checking his schedule.

"Yes Friday," Blythe confirmed. "And there's no sense in trying to tell me you have plans, I can already tell that you're not busy."

"Friday it is," House replied with fake enthusiasm, realizing there was no way out now. He just hoped that he and Cameron were back on speaking terms before Friday, or this dinner was going to be even more awkward than he feared.

* * *

Cameron sat at Cuddy's desk and stared forlornly at the mounting paperwork in front of her. Cuddy had only been out two days, how could things have gotten this bad so quickly? Cameron had stayed at the hospital until 8pm the previous two nights and she still felt as though she was in considerable danger of having the desk collapse on her from the weight of all these files. Wilson had stopped in once or twice to check on her, and she'd insisted she was fine. The last thing she wanted was for Wilson to report back to Cuddy that she couldn't handle this.

Cameron groaned when she glanced at the clock and saw it was already past 6pm. Her stomach growled and she rubbed her temples tiredly. She hadn't eaten lunch today; she'd been far too busy trying to correct a shipping snafu that had resulted in a thousand cases of tongue depressors being delivered to the cafeteria while a two month supply of coffee stirrers had gone to the clinic. Cameron heard a light knocking on the office door and wished she could hide under the desk.

"Cameron," a thickly accented voice called. "You busy?"

"Not at all, what can I do for you?" Cameron asked with a tired smile.

"You can stop what you're doing and eat dinner," Jasper said kindly. She placed a bag of something that smelled fantastic on the coffee table in Cuddy's seating area. Cameron's stomach growled loudly. "Rob told me he saw you here last night when he was leaving after the swing shift. We figured you'd still be here."

Cameron came from around the desk and greedily snatched the bag from the table. She opened it and grinned when she saw its contents, three gloriously greasy soft tacos. They were her favorite guilty pleasure, one that she denied herself far too often.

"How did you know?" Cameron asked as she pulled one of the tacos from the bag and began eating without even taking the wrappings all the way off. She groaned and closed her eyes when she got that first bite.

"You always ordered these when House was stressing you out about some case and keeping us here until all hours of the night," Chase said. Jasper smiled and linked her arm in his. She knew he'd had a thing for Cameron in the past, but she was secure enough not to worry about it. "You can't work for House for three years and not pick up on the little details."

"Then he's good for something because I am starving," Cameron joked as she unwrapped her second taco. She looked from Chase to Jasper and back again. "How are you two settling in together? I heard you were moving in?"

"We're getting used to each other," Jasper said happily. "It's an adjustment. I don't have any space left in the bathroom with all his hair care products."

"There might be more space if you ever threw anything away," Chase retorted.

"Some of that stuff has sentimental value!" Jasper protested.

"What's sentimental about ten half empty bottles of lotion?" Chase asked.

Cameron laughed quietly while they bickered. They seemed so happy together, even when they were getting on each other's nerves. Suddenly Cameron bolted upright in her chair. It was Wednesday; she was supposed to meet House for their 'confessions'!

"What time is it?" Cameron gasped. "Quarter to seven?! Sorry, you guys, I'm late for … something." Cameron began scrambling to shut off the computer, grab her jacket and bag and dash for the door. Jasper and Chase followed so she could lock the offices behind her. "Thanks for dinner!" Cameron shouted as she sprinted through the lobby.

* * *

"Jimmy, this is ridiculous!" Cuddy whined. "Bed rest doesn't actually mean you have to physically lie down the entire time."

"Yes, actually, it does," Wilson answered. "I'll bring you a cup of tea, but you need to lie back down on the couch." Wilson knew Cuddy was bored and anxious but if she couldn't even manage to slow down during her pregnancy, how would she ever manage to slow down once the baby arrived?

"This is torture," Cuddy grumbled under her breath, lest her jailor should hear.

"I heard that," Wilson's voice wafted out from the kitchen. Cuddy made a face. "We could talk about names some more."

"I thought we were supposed to be reducing my stress," Cuddy argued. So far talking about names had led to nothing but yelling about names.

"I'll behave if you will," Wilson offered. He came in from the kitchen carrying a tray laden with a teapot, cups and a plate of sugar free cookies. Cuddy raised an eyebrow.

"Do I get to eat the cookies?" She asked.

"Of course."

"Deal," Cuddy said, promptly snagging two cookies from the plate and sinking her teeth into one.

"How about Rebecca?" Wilson suggested.

"Too traditional," Cuddy objected. "Tabitha?"

"And give House proof you're a witch?" Wilson scoffed. "Gisele?"

"I'm not naming my daughter after your favorite underwear model," Cuddy said. "Abigail?"

"Abigail," Wilson repeated. "I like that."

* * *

House straddled the seat of his bike, tapping his fingers impatiently on the section of the seat between his legs. What started out as a simple annoyance that Cameron, of all people, was late had slowly escalated to something akin to worry. What if she wasn't coming? Was she really that angry that she would skip their meeting? House blew out an irritated breath and checked his watch; she was twenty minutes late. _Five more minutes,_ House decided, _and I'm out of here. _That was the fourth time he'd promised himself that, but that wasn't important. He shifted uncomfortably; the bag on his back was becoming steadily heavier but taking it off meant he was waiting and he wasn't ready to acknowledge his inability to just leave.

A pair of headlights swung around the corner and House ignored the flood of relief that swelled in his chest, seizing instead on the irritation that came with it. She was twenty … three minutes late and hadn't even bothered to call. He was internally debating whether he should wait until she'd seen him and then drive off in a huff. The headlights blinded him momentarily as the tires crunched across the gravel path and then quieted as the car was parked on the grass.

Cameron flung the door open and then slammed it shut. She rushed over to where he sat grouchily on the bike.

"I'm so sorry," she gushed as soon as she was within earshot. "I was working and I didn't notice the time. Thank god Jasper and Chase stopped by to drop off dinner for me, I had no idea how late it was." She sounded slightly out of breath as she finally reached him; she had jogged from her car to get to him sooner. "Have you been waiting long? Is your leg alright?" She flung her arms around his neck and pressed a quick and sloppy kiss on his cheek as she pulled him into a fierce hug.

"My leg is fine, although my trachea is getting crushed," House grumbled. Cameron released him apologetically. She cupped his scruffy face in her hands and kissed him soundly. She pulled back and looked at him; there was no mistaking her sincerity. "I thought maybe you weren't coming."

"I'm sorry," Cameron said again. "I wouldn't do that. Not intentionally."

House jerked his head in the direction of their clearing. He dismounted the bike and began hobbling toward the blanket he'd already laid out. Cameron dashed back to her car to grab her bag from the passenger seat and then jogged back to catch up with House. They reached the blanket and House removed his bag and placed it gently on the ground. He slowly lowered himself to a sitting position and looked up at Cameron. She sat beside him. House reached for the bag and unzipped it, withdrawing from within a small, gray, metal box.

"I've got something for you," he said quietly. He handed the box to Cameron. He searched his pockets and produced a key, which he also handed to her.

"What is it?" Cameron asked.

"It's an insurance policy," House said. Cameron looked at him strangely. She raised her eyebrows to ask if she could open the box and House nodded. Cameron inserted the key and lifted the lid. She took in the vials of morphine, syringes and a bottle of Vicodin. She looked back at House. "Don't get rid of it," he said softly. "Just … don't let me have it either." Cameron nodded her understanding with tears in her eyes.

House scooted on the blanket until Cameron was seated between his long legs. He wrapped his muscular arms around her and rested his chin on the top of her head.

"This isn't exactly what Quig had in mind," Cameron said.

"Are you complaining?" House asked. Cameron shook her head no. "You can't see my face and I can't see yours." Cameron sighed and closed her eyes as she let his warm embrace ease away the day's tension. "You can go first."

Cameron stiffened in his arms, so much for easing away the tension. There were so many things she wanted to know about him, everything really, that sometimes she didn't even know where to begin. She wanted to ask him why he'd done what he'd done to Price, but she was afraid she already knew the answer. It amused him, and he never even considered the possibility that someone else might get hurt. Instead she decided on something she'd wanted to ask him for a very long time.

"What happened between you and your dad?" she asked. This time it was House's turn to stiffen with discomfort. He'd known it was only a matter of time before she asked about this and even though he knew it was coming it didn't hurt any less.

"He was pretty strict. You know how I am about following the rules," House said simply. "I got punished a lot when I was younger."

"Punished?" Cameron asked quietly. She'd suspected since she'd met his parents that there was more to his relationship with his father than just two head-strong men who didn't get along. "Did he … did he beat you?"

House closed his eyes. "Not exactly," he said. "He didn't hit me, much anyway. There were a couple times when I just wouldn't give in but it was too hard to fight him all the time."

"Give in to what?" Cameron asked. She wasn't sure she really wanted to know. Her own childhood of neglectful parents was painful enough; she at least was able to rationalize why her parents had been that way once she got older. But trying to rationalize active abuse was unimaginable.

"Ice baths, sleeping outside, digging holes," House answered. He tried to keep his voice nonchalant, but it was clear there was still resentment there.

"What about your mother?" Cameron asked.

"She never hit me," House said quickly. He didn't think his mother had ever contemplated such a thing.

"No, I mean did he … was he, uh, abusive to your mother?" Cameron hesitated at asking this question. There really wasn't a delicate way to ask, and House would only be annoyed at her timidity.

"He didn't need to be," House whispered. His eyes were closed, and had been since they'd begun. "She hates confrontations."

"But you love your mother," Cameron was confused. It just didn't seem to fit with everything else she knew about him. How could he still love her when she'd allowed his father to do those things to him?

"Military wives then did what their husbands told them to do," House said. He took a deep breath and let it slowly. He wanted to be honest with her; not even Wilson knew about his childhood. His fingers began tapping on her legs. "You didn't leave your husband because he was strict with your kids. He didn't beat me and he didn't beat her. He didn't drink or whore around like so many of his friends." He realized he was fingering Fur Elise on Cameron's legs. It had been his mother's favorite piece; she'd been so proud when he learned to play it and listened to him over and over again. Cameron laced her fingers into his and squeezed. "I couldn't hate them both."

Cameron nodded. She remembered trying to hate her parents when she'd gotten clean and gone away to college. Hatred takes a lot of effort to maintain; the best Cameron had been able to achieve was a malicious indifference. Even that had faded over time until she now rarely thought about her family at all. She could see how it would be hard to hate both your parents, especially as a very young child. And it certainly would be easier to hate the one who hurt you and accept the one who soothed you.

They sat in silence for a few minutes and just enjoyed each other's closeness. Cameron shivered a little in the cool spring air and House tightened his grip around her.

"Do you really think I'm a good man?" House asked.

"Yes," Cameron answered. "I do."

"Even after what I did to Price?"

"Even after what you did to Price," Cameron replied, but more slowly this time and House noticed.

"Really?" he asked skeptically.

"I'm angry," Cameron said. "I'll get over it. But Greg, it was thoughtless and I just can't reconcile the most brilliant man I know with being thoughtless. I know you could have seen this outcome if you'd just bothered to look. I've learned to accept your less than tactful bedside manner because you use it for the patient's good. But this was just for amusement or boredom and that's harder to accept."

"I thought he'd know I was screwing with him. I didn't expect him to take it to heart like that," House protested.

"Not everybody has a fortress around their heart, Greg," Cameron said. "Just because yours comes with armed sentries and a moat with man-eating sharks doesn't mean everyone else's heart is so well-protected."

"Nice metaphor," House couldn't help but smile. "And I am sorry."

"I know you are. But I'm not the person you should be telling," Cameron said. She shivered again. "Are you ready to go home?"

"Speaking of home," House said casually as he watched Cameron gather up the box, blanket and her bag. "How about we move in together?"

Cameron stood up slowly, her bag slung over shoulder, the metal box in her hands and the blanket draped over one arm. Her expression was blank, but her mind was racing. "Okay."

"Good," House said, nervous and relieved. "Great. And my parents are coming for dinner on Friday," he said quickly.

"Okay," Cameron replied again. Since the day he'd proposed, they'd never discussed their future for a moment. There had been no talk of moving, no wedding plans made. She was in shock.

"I thought we'd move into my place for now. It's closer to the hospital. Less stairs. Fireplace. Plus my piano will never fit in your living room," House rambled as they approached Cameron's car and his bike.

"Okay." _Did he say dinner with his parents?_

House paused beside his bike and looked at Cameron, amused by her confusion. She seemed a little thrown off, which of course was exactly the reaction he'd been hoping for. "Well, riveting as this banter has been, it's cold and my leg hurts. See you back home." He leaned down and kissed her cheek before mounting his bike and driving off.

"Okay," Cameron said to no one.


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: Okay, so this isn't the most original idea, but come on, it's still funny, right?**

**Disclaimer: Yes I own them. I also own the Brooklyn Bridge, which is currently for sale. Any takers?**

Chapter 32

House snapped awake on Friday afternoon when he heard the apartment door closing behind him. He lifted his head from the couch and peered in the direction of door warily. He was greeted with the face of an irritated, but incredibly sexy, Allison Cameron.

"Are they coming here, or are we meeting them someplace?" she asked. Asked might not have been an accurate description. In reality, her question was really more of a demand for information. House propped himself on his elbows and looked her over. Scrunched up face, tense shoulders, hands on hips and tapping left foot. Cameron was nervous; scratch that, Cameron was clenching.

"They're coming here first for a drink, then we're going out," House replied evenly. If he were to be completely honest with himself, which he never was, House was a little nervous too. Any visit from his dad always made him a little … uneasy … but introducing his dad to his fiancée, his much younger, incredibly gorgeous, former employee turned fiancée was worthy of concern. "What are you doing here?" House asked as he checked his watch. "It's barely two."

"I snuck out early," Cameron answered. She removed her jacket and hung it on the rack near the door. When she turned, his expression of disbelief amused her, if only for a moment. "I'm the boss, for now anyway. What good is that if I can't sneak out early on a Friday?" Cameron walked past House into the kitchen, but continued talking. "Please tell me Peapod has been here," she called out to him as she opened the refrigerator. House cringed. "Greg!" Cameron half-shouted and half-whined. "There's nothing in here."

"Is there ever?" House grunted as he levered himself off the couch. Grabbing his cane off the coffee table he limped his way toward where Cameron was now banging his cupboards open and closed. "What are you doing?"

"You don't even have a box of cereal," Cameron complained.

"Are you hungry?" House asked confused.

Cameron stopped her obviously useless search for something resembling food and turned on House slowly. She met his confused gaze with a stare of such utter frustration that House was taken aback. Something was clearly going on that he wasn't aware of.

"When was the last time your parents were here?" Cameron asked.

"I … don't think they've ever been here," House said, surprising himself when he said it. He'd moved to this apartment shortly after he and Stacey had split up. Too many stairs and too many memories. "So?"

"So?" Cameron echoed faintly. She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. "So, your mother is going to want to see the whole place, not just the living room. The first place she's going to go is the kitchen, to make sure you're eating well enough. When you're single and your kitchen looks like this your mother gives you a lecture about better nutrition. When you're engaged, it's a reflection on the fact that I'm not feeding you. Then she'll go in the bedroom … oh god, Greg, when was the last time you changed your sheets?" Cameron asked, horrified.

During her little speech, her breathing had become more rapid and her eyes had widened to the point where House feared an eyeball might pop out; a flush rose on her cheeks and a fine layer of sweat appeared on her brow as she waved her arms about frantically. All in all, in that moment Cameron looked as much a candidate for a hypertensive crisis as Cuddy had earlier in the week.

"Allison," House said sharply. He rarely called her that outside the bedroom, and it got the reaction he had hoped. She clasped her hands together to try to still them. Not quite successful, she began wringing them nervously. "You're going to stroke out. Relax."

"I just want to make a good first impression," Cameron confessed.

"You've already met," House pointed out.

"For two minutes, nearly two years ago. And then I was just your employee, not your fiancée," Cameron argued.

"My mom is going to love you. And you can't make a good first impression on my dad, unless you're secretly Chuck Yeager," House said. He raised an eyebrow at her. "You're not, are you?" Cameron glared; House surrendered. "Fine … clean, organize, whatever. I've got an appointment with Quig at three."

Cameron was already rummaging under the sink for cleaning supplies. When she saw House grab his leather jacket off the coat hook, she dropped the bucket and sponge on the floor. She dashed into the living room and grabbed her purse. Helmet in hand, House turned to leave and jumped back as Cameron shoved her keys in his face.

"Take my car, you can stop and get some groceries on the way back," she said. House stared at her. "Please." House grumbled under his breath, but took the keys from her. He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead and left. Cameron closed the door behind him and let out a sigh. She would never have been able to accomplish everything she wanted to do with him underfoot.

* * *

Two hours later, Cameron was nearly finished cleaning. Cameron had traded in her skirt and blouse for a pair of House's boxers and an old Pink Floyd t-shirt. The kitchen had been her first project. House never cooked, and rarely used dishes when he ordered take-out which meant there were very few dishes to be washed. Washing the cupboards and refrigerator proved easier for his lack of anything in them. Cameron scrubbed the floor on her hands and knees, and even cleaned the stove.

The living room and bedroom had been easier. House wasn't a slob, just a man. There was clutter everywhere and a decent layer of dust over everything except the piano. Cameron was pleased with herself that she'd taken the time to shop for extra sheets and blankets for his apartment because it meant there were clean linens to replace his favorite blue cotton set.

Cameron had tackled the bathroom last. It was cleaner than she had feared, but not as clean as she had hoped. Mid-way through scrubbing the shower, Cameron had stripped off House's t-shirt in a sweat. She checked her watch constantly. House's parents weren't due until six, it was just past four now. She would have plenty of time.

Cameron saved the vacuuming for last. It was really the only household chore she could say she truly enjoyed. This was mostly because while she vacuumed, she would turn the stereo up as loud as she could stand it and sing and dance while she vacuumed. Before she switched on the vacuum, Cameron dug through her purse and found and old hairclip, which she used to pin up her now sweaty, straggling hair.

Cameron swung her hips as she vacuumed, belting out a somewhat screechy rendition of 'Almost Like Being in Love' with Old Blue Eyes. She wasn't sure why, but it was always Sinatra when she cleaned. Between songs Cameron heard the faint tones of her cell phone. She switched off the vacuum and dug her phone out of her purse, praying it wasn't the hospital.

"Dr. Cameron," she panted.

"So that's why you wanted me to stop at the market, looking to get a little extra time with your boyfriend," House accused jokingly.

"Oh you figured it out," Cameron played along. "I secretly planned this with your parents weeks ago just so I could get a little on the side."

"I'll be home in about fifteen minutes," House informed her.

"See you then," Cameron said, snapping her phone shut. She returned to her vacuuming. She was wrestling the vacuum back into the closet when she heard a knock at the door. Assuming that House was carrying the groceries and couldn't manage the door, Cameron, clad only in his boxers and a pale, blue bra, swung the door open wide.

"Mr. and Mrs. House!" she yelped at the astonished couple she found on the threshold.

* * *

With as much dignity as she could muster under the circumstances, Cameron invited Mr. and Mrs. House inside. She took their coats and hung them; she offered to get them a drink before excusing herself and retreating hastily to the bedroom. As the door clicked shut, Cameron leaned her back against it and felt hot tears of humiliation flow down her cheeks. _So much for a good impression,_ she thought bitterly. Cameron brushed the tears from her cheeks impatiently and took a deep breath to calm herself. There was nothing she could do now but clean herself up and get back out there.

John and Blythe sat on the couch in an awkward silence. John, outspoken even by House's standards, was at least momentarily dumb-struck. Blythe was flushed with embarrassment for poor Dr. Cameron. But also, she was impressed that she'd handled herself so well. It wasn't just any woman who could take your coat and offer you a drink while wearing nothing but her underwear and not collapse into tears on the spot. Blythe believed this little incident gave her a clue as to how such a young woman could handle a relationship with her son.

An impatient knocking startled both John and Blythe. Just a moment before, they'd heard the shower begin and they knew firsthand that Dr. Cameron wasn't in any state to be answering the door. Blythe wondered briefly if Greg had invited James for dinner with them and motioned to John to answer it.

"Took you long enough," House managed to grunt out before he lifted his eyes to see his father. "You're early."

"Your mother wanted time to see the apartment," John said. He stepped aside to let House in, but didn't offer to take any of the bags he was juggling. Blythe, however, instantly came over and relieved House of his burden.

"Where's Cameron?" House asked.

"She's … uh … just freshening up," Blythe answered demurely. House noticed the blush on his mother's cheeks and knew immediately that something had happened. Had his father said something insulting already?

"Freshening up," John scoffed. "Trying to make herself decent is more like it."

House followed his mother into the kitchen, choosing not to respond to his father's comment. Blythe was busy taking groceries from the bag and placing them on the counter. House couldn't help but smile a little at her methodical nature; cans in one area, cereal boxes lined up by height.

"Mom," House said. She turned and he kissed her upturned cheek. "What happened?"

"Oh, well," Blythe faltered. "Dr. Cameron must have been expecting you with the groceries, dear. She answered the door a little hastily is all."

"Uh huh," House said. Whatever had happened had obviously been very embarrassing, judging from the deepening blush on his mother's cheeks. "Want to try again?"

"Greg," Blythe sighed. "She answered the door in her underwear."

House tried his hardest, but simply could not stop the laugh that rumbled up from his chest. The mental image of Cameron in her underwear facing his parents was more than he could bear. Blythe smiled herself; hopefully someday this would be one of those moments you laughed about with your grandchildren.

"I'll go check on her," House said. "You okay in here?"

"The day I need your help in the kitchen, Gregory House, is the day I pack in my apron," Blythe said firmly, shooing him off.

* * *

House found Cameron in the bathroom, shakily trying to apply her eye makeup. He watched her for a minute as she twice had to lower her quivering hand to keep from jabbing herself in the eye with her mascara. Finally taking pity on her, House stepped close behind her and plucked it from her hand.

"You don't need it," he said. "I know, I know, you feel naked without your makeup. But seeing as my parents have already seen you in your skivvies, I think you can go without," he teased.

Cameron blushed bright scarlet and spun around to smack him soundly on the arm. "Do you have any idea how embarrassed I am?" she demanded. "Greg, all I was wearing was my bra and your boxers!"

"I'll bet you looked hot," House grinned.

"This isn't funny," Cameron insisted. "Your father saw my bra."

"Come on, it's a little funny," House cajoled her. "Besides, that's the closest look at a hot young girl he's had in years."

"Greg," Cameron moaned as she leaned her forehead against his chest. "How am I supposed to eat dinner and do small talk with them now?"

"We're Houses, we don't do small talk," House said, failing miserably to cover the shit-eating grin on his face. "This is going to be the best dinner conversation we've had in years."

Wisely sensing the tension when House and Cameron had returned, Blythe asked for a tour. House agreed and Cameron readily accepted his invitation to join them. House told his mother that he and Cameron would be moving in together soon, which started Cameron and Blythe on a conversation about some redecorating. House tried to block most of it out, content that he'd loosened their tongues and let his mother's naturally non-confrontational manner relax Cameron. His father would be a much tougher nut to crack, metaphorically speaking.

John had remained on the couch, not really interested in the tour. Truly, he hadn't been that interested in this visit. He and his son had stopped getting along about the time that House had learned to talk. Since then it had been a constant battle of wills. John House had never backed down from a battle of wills, and he never intended to. But as years had passed and John slowly realized that his son was every bit as stubborn as he, perhaps more, John had withdrawn. He hadn't stopped fighting, he would never stop fighting, he just lessened the opportunities for battle.

"…perhaps a nice burgundy," Blythe and Cameron entered the living room in an animated discussion about repainting the bedroom. House was two limps behind them, simultaneously rolling his eyes and biting his tongue. John smiled ruefully. Put two women together and one of a handful of 'safe' subjects would inevitably come up: cooking, gardening or redecorating.

John watched his son carefully. He looked different than the last time they'd visited. His limp was more pronounced, John noticed that when he walked in the door, but there was something else. He looked, less haggard. His worsening limp suggested deterioration in his leg, which seemed to contradict the rest of his demeanor. John wondered if this girl was the difference.

"…I wouldn't move the piano for anything," Cameron's voice floated through the room. John hadn't been paying attention, too wrapped up in his own thoughts. "I love listening to Greg play."

"You still fiddling with that thing?" John asked. House nodded but said nothing.

"I wouldn't say he's fiddling, Mr. House. He's very talented," Cameron spoke up, although she couldn't quite meet John's eyes when she did. She couldn't bear to listen to him chastise House like a little boy.

"Humph," was John's reply. He let their voices fade once more as he studied this girl. _Sharp eyes, intelligent, _John thought. _Strong jaw, she's probably stubborn as hell. Slow smile, maybe she's not as frivolous as I thought,_ John mused.

"Mr. House?" John became aware that Cameron was speaking to him. "Would you like a drink before we leave for dinner?"

"No, I'm driving," John answered. Blythe shot him an impatient look. "Thank you." John checked his watch, surprised to find they'd been there nearly an hour and a half.

"Greg?" Cameron asked. House shook his head. She frowned at him, but didn't ask. She was sure there was a reason he'd said no, he'd certainly never refused a drink before, but this wasn't the right time to ask.

Cameron just nodded and stood up to get Blythe a glass of wine. She could hear Blythe and House discussing something in the living room and smiled softly. Blythe was such a lovely woman. Cameron pulled a bottle of white wine from the refrigerator and took a glass from the cupboard. It was only then that she noticed the groceries had been put away and she smiled again realizing that Blythe must have done it. Cameron poured the wine and returned the bottle to the fridge.

"So, Allison," Blythe addressed her as she crossed the threshold from the kitchen. "Can John and I expect to be grandparents any time soon?"

Cameron gasped and felt the wine glass slip from her fingers. Time slowed as she watched its descent to the floor. She had time to see the nearly clear liquid within slosh over the rim of the glass just seconds before it impacted with the hard wood and shattered, spraying its contents in a fine mist.

"Oh my goodness!" Blythe exclaimed. "Allison, dear are you alright?"

"Fine," Cameron barely managed to whisper. "Clumsy. I'll get something to clean that up." She turned and exited back to the kitchen as quickly as she could without actually running.

"Mom," House said quietly. "She can't have children." He stood from the arm of couch he'd been perched on and moved to check on her.

"Oh Greg," Blythe sighed. "Why didn't you … never mind, sit down." Blythe walked slowly into the kitchen.

Cameron stood with her back to the living room, he fingers clutching the edge of the counter in a Herculean grip. She heard the soft footsteps approaching and recognized they weren't House's.

"Allison, I'm so sorry, I had no idea," Blythe said from behind her.

"Of course," Cameron said, forcing a smile. "It just took me by surprise."

"Still, it was rather pushy of me," Blythe continued. "I'd hate for you to get the impression I'm one of those meddling mother-in-laws."

"As long as you don't get the impression I'm a moron for answering the door in my bra," Cameron smiled more genuinely this time.

"We'll call it even then," Blythe said. "And to think I was worried it would be John who would put his foot in his mouth this evening."

Cameron laughed, she couldn't help herself. It was just such a _House_ thing to say. Blythe laughed too and the pair returned to the living room. House had limped to the bathroom and gotten a towel, which he'd used to clean up the glass and the sticky puddle of wine on the floor. Cameron flashed him a grateful smile.

"Are we ready to go?" Cameron asked. House looked at her carefully to make sure she was okay. She nodded.

* * *

Several hours later Cameron and House sunk deep into the couch cushions. Cameron immediately kicked off her high-heeled shoes and tucked her legs beneath her. Twisting slightly, she snuggled into House's chest and heaved a dramatic sigh. In truth, dinner had gone fairly well. House and John had both refrained from engaging in their normal digs against each other. While this meant a mostly silent meal from the two of them, Cameron and Blythe had even greater opportunity to talk and both came away from the meal with a comfortable understanding of just how much they both loved House.

"Let's never do that again," House said.

"Dinner?" Cameron joked.

"Ha," he replied. There was a long pause. "I should have warned my mom about the whole baby thing. I just figured it was my dad I should worry about." He frowned when Cameron laughed. "What's so funny?"

"That's pretty much what she said," Cameron answered. House smiled. "Take me to bed."

"It's about time," House said. "I'd hate for my dad to be the only guy who got to see your bra tonight."


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Thanks to the grace of a god in whom she did not believe, Cameron survived the week of Cuddy's absence without burning down the hospital, in either the literal or the figurative sense. Price had decided that he was ready to return to work, which meant House was coming back to PPTH as well. Plans were being made to move what few pieces of furniture Cameron was keeping to House's apartment. All in all, things were looking up. That should have been Cameron's first clue trouble was near at hand.

Thursday morning saw House limping through the doors of the hospital lobby, his normal cane-aided swagger toned down a few degrees. He was back; no need to piss off the boss on the first day. There was always tomorrow. House limped through the clinic and into the administrative offices to be greeted by piles of boxes.

Cameron was nowhere in sight, so House limped around the boxes and entered Cuddy's office. Confusion spread across his features when he found stacks of boxes in Cuddy's office as well.

"Moving?" he asked stupidly.

"What gave it away?" Cuddy retorted, without looking up from her paperwork. House positioned himself in front of her desk and dropped three envelopes on her desk. Cuddy looked at him warily. "What's this?"

"Letters of apology," House said.

"You're kidding," Cuddy said, clearly not believing that House would have actually followed her instructions.

"Yes, they're actually copies of the petitions I've sent to board for Naked Wednesday, Naked Thursday and Naked Friday," House snarked at her.

"I didn't think you'd really do it," Cuddy breathed.

"You didn't give me much choice," House shot at her.

"Like that ever made a difference before," Cuddy muttered under her breath. "Thank you. I'll see that they get these. Now, it shouldn't be necessary, but since it's YOU … you will not, let me stress NOT, under ANY circumstances or in ANY manner harass Dr. Price about his sexual orientation for the remainder of his employ at this hospital."

"So, once he's left the hospital, I can harass him all I want?" House asked cheekily.

"House," Cuddy growled. House only grinned and held up his hands in surrender and to indicate he was kidding.

"Seriously, what's with all the boxes?" House asked, nudging a pile of precariously stacked boxes with the end of his cane.

"We're moving," Cuddy said, wincing in anticipation of the crash.

"Who's we?"

"The administrative offices," Cuddy said. "We're moving to the unused space down the hall next to the physical therapy department. I'll have a larger office with a small conference room and Cameron will finally have an office of her own."

"How did you talk the board into that?" House asked. He didn't really care, but something in the way Cuddy smiled made him think there was more to this than just a bigger office.

"We're expanding the clinic," Cuddy said, an evil glint in her eye at House's horrified reaction.

"You do know that means more sick people?" House asked in disgust and terror.

"I do," Cuddy replied. "We're adding two new exam rooms and a proper records room. More exam rooms mean less waiting time for the patients."

"And, coincidentally, more doctors to staff them?" House asked.

"Hey, what do you know, you're right!" Cuddy exclaimed happily. House made a face at her; he had nothing sarcastic to say. The thought of more clinic duty was enough to whither even his sarcasm muscle. House retreated slowly, thankful he'd eaten a light breakfast.

* * *

House limped into his office, a puzzled expression on his face. Two different nurses had welcomed him back on his way upstairs. The fact that two nurses voluntarily spoke to him was scary enough, but coupled with pleasantries it was downright terrifying. Between that and the prospect of more clinic hours, House was feeling a little nauseous. He dropped his bag in the yellow chair and limped to the conference room for a cup of coffee he hoped he could keep down. 

Price, Foreman and Jasper all looked up at him when he entered. House had already decided the only way he was going to not make fun of Price was to not speak at all. Cuddy would give them their letters of apology anyway; he had nothing more to say. Six eyes needled him constantly while he took down his red mug and filled it. He grabbed a packet of a sugar substitute and was already stirring it into his coffee before he realized what he'd done. Damn Cameron.

House took his coffee and limped back to his office. In the conference room, Price just shook his head. He hadn't been exactly sure what to expect this morning, but nothing hadn't been it. Jasper gave Price a sympathetic shrug; at least House hadn't belittled him. Foreman sighed. The last thing he wanted was to go talk to House now, but it was already Thursday and he needed that paperwork signed. Resignedly, he heaved himself out of his chair and headed into the office.

"Disappointed?" House asked as Foreman entered. "Were you hoping I'd call him a fairy and get myself fired so you could finally take over?"

"No," Foreman said. "I don't really care what you do as long as you sign my resignation."

"Your what?" House asked.

"Do you even look at your desk?" Foreman demanded in annoyance. He stepped up to House's desk and rifled through the mountain of papers until he found the orange file from Human Resources. He thrust it at House.

"So the last little chickie is flying the coop?" House drawled. "Sure you're ready to be out there on your own?"

"Yes, sign it," Foreman said tiredly. He'd been waiting a week to get this paperwork back from House. He was scheduled to start his new job in two weeks and he still had to pack and find a new apartment, none of which he could do until House accepted his resignation.

"Got a new job?" House asked, taking a pen from the cup on his desk and toying with it.

"St. Augustine's," Foreman replied. "The Chief Neurologist there is retiring in five years; I'll get his department when he goes."

"St. Augustine's is a small hospital," House commented. "Five years is a long time."

"I'll be a department head at forty. St. Augustine's has a good reputation," Foreman defended his choice.

"But that's not the real reason you took the job," House pressed.

"My mom is worse, it's close to home," Foreman admitted. He hadn't wanted to discuss his private affairs with House, but it was worthless to try and hold him off, especially when he needed that signature.

"Good enough for me," House said. He signed the form with a flourish and handed the file back to Foreman. Foreman nodded his thanks and turned to exit. House waited until Foreman was almost out the door before calling him back. "Foreman! I was a department head a thirty eight and a half," House informed him. Foreman just shook his head. Some things never change.

* * *

House limped across the balcony and over the wall to Wilson's office just before lunch. Wilson hadn't checked up on him at all during his week long absence. House assumed Wilson was pissed and waiting for an apology, which House would have to fake his way through in order to get his lunch. He hated that, but Wilson was needy. What could he do? 

House opened the door and sat down on Wilson's couch. Wilson didn't look up from his desk. _Oh, Jimmy's in a snit,_ House thought. _I'd better make this good._

"So, I heard from the night janitor …" House began. He paused for Wilson's reaction. 'I heard from the night janitor' was basically their code phrase for 'I got some juicy sex gossip about somebody gettin' freaky'. It never failed to get a reaction from either of them, until today.

"Right, so the **night janitor** let it slide that the sleep lab techs are renting out the empty rooms downstairs for $20 an hour," House continued. This was true; House had already paid the tech $40 for a 'reservation' and was just trying to convince Cameron not to let his money go to waste.

Wilson finished the chart he was working on. House expected a reaction at this point, but was let down. Wilson picked up the next chart from the pile and began working on it, never once lifting his eyes from the desk or acknowledging House in any way.

"Okay, you're pissed, I get it," House said. He sighed and looked down at the floor. He hated apologizing, hated it, and he'd already had to do it three times today in writing. A fourth was almost more than his ego could take. "You know, the whole thing really had nothing to do with Cuddy, uh, Lisa."

Wilson stopped writing and House thought he was off the hook for a second and a half. But when the fourth second and the fifth ticked by without any word from Wilson, House looked up. At least Wilson's icy glare would be an acknowledgement he was there. Wilson's eyes remained steadily trained at the desk, and when the seventh second ticked he began writing again.

"You're not pissed," House said quietly. "You're never quiet when you're pissed. Or furious, or morally outraged or any other descriptive words that usually apply."

Wilson finished his second chart and replaced it with a new one. House was now genuinely concerned. Wilson was never, ever silent about House's antics. Even when they were directed at him. Something about this was different and House only liked different when it came to patients and symptoms. Otherwise different was hard and scary and almost never good for him.

"You're calm," House noted. "You're not flushed or breathing heavy. You're not gripping your pen in frustration or boring a hole through your charts."

Wilson continued to make notes on the chart in front of him. This was seriously disturbing. House leaned forward from the couch and lifted his cane to the top of the desk. He waved it in front of Wilson's face a few times.

"Have you gone deaf? I know you aren't blind, or you wouldn't be charting," House said. "Amnesia? I'm hurt that you'd forget your bestest friend in the whole wide world, but it's not your fault, you have a neurological problem."

Wilson placed the last of his charts in his outbox. He clicked his pen closed and returned it to its place among the others in his pocket protector. He logged off from his computer and rolled down his shirt sleeves, buttoning the cuffs closed fussily. He stood from his chair and smoothed down his tie. Finally, he looked at House.

"I'm done," Wilson said. He said it quietly, calmly.

"Great, let's get lunch," House said.

"No. I'm done with you," Wilson said. He lifted his lab coat from the rack and left House sitting on the couch in his office, his cane tapping the floor.

* * *

House sat in Wilson's office and waited for half an hour before he finally gave up and decided Wilson wasn't coming back. He limped his way tiredly to the elevators and rode down to the lobby. He crossed the clinic, interrupted only by Nurse Katie's 'Welcome back Dr. House!' and planted himself in Cameron's office. Cameron continued typing after he came in; acknowledging his dramatic entrances and exits only encouraged him. 

"Wilson's done with me," House announced.

"Wilson's done doing what with you?" Cameron asked, glancing away from her computer for a brief moment.

"Not doing me, done with me. I went to apologize," Cameron raised an eyebrow. House huffed. "I went to smooth things over and he said he's done with me."

"What else did he say?" Cameron asked, typing furiously.

"Nothing," House sighed. Cameron stopped typing and looked at him. She was surprised at how serious he looked.

"He had nothing else to say?" Cameron asked again. "That's weird."

"I think he means it this time," House said quietly, shifting in his chair to look out into the clinic.

"So, he's been done with you before," Cameron said. She was concerned. His leg was getting worse. Cameron knew if he qualified for the trial he'd want the surgery. If things went well, she could handle it. It was the surgery not going well that scared her.

"A couple times he's 'washed his hands of me'. Once he even tried to 'wash me out of his hair', but he never … seemed like he meant it. Cuddy's over it, you're over it, hell Price is even over it! Why is he being such a … such a …?" House's voice trailed off.

"Why is he putting Cuddy before you?" Cameron asked gently. House rolled his eyes. He hated when she was right, which was becoming all too frequent in his opinion. He looked away again to avoid having to answer that question when his eyes fell on Nurse Katie at the clinic reception area. Something clicked.

"Cameron," House said slowly. "How did you and Cuddy convince the board not to fire me?"

"What?" Cameron asked. She had returned to typing but her fingers stuttered across the keys at that question.

"I still had a month left on my probation when this all went down. The board should have fired me outright. How did you convince them not to, once they'd seen my suspension?"

Cameron closed her eyes and House clenched his teeth in anger. She was a terrible liar, really the worst he'd ever seen. She hadn't blinked; she'd closed her eyes. That meant she knew she was caught. She gave up the lie before she'd even said it.

"You lied to me," House said.

"No," Cameron said. "I … just didn't tell you the whole truth."

"You said you couldn't overturn my suspension," House argued.

"That was true," Cameron hedged.

"In what sense?"

Cameron sighed in defeat. "In the sense that you were never officially suspended." House just stared at her in stunned disbelief. "We couldn't suspend you and protect Price …"

"So you lied to me," House interrupted angrily.

"Yes," Cameron said. She turned to face him. She wasn't proud of lying to him; she'd hated every second of it. But she still believed they'd done the best they could in a nearly impossible situation. "We told the board you and Price had influenza."

House nodded. That explained why people welcomed him back. "Cuddy must be so proud," he spat at her, as though the words were left a bad taste in his mouth.

"What would have had me do?" Cameron demanded. She'd known he would be angry, but she hadn't counted on it reminding her how angry she was at what he'd done. "Let Lisa suspend you and have the board fire you? Ruin Price's reputation and his career before he could even set up his own practice? You didn't exactly leave me with a lot of choices, House."

"It didn't have anything to do with you!" House exploded, thumping his cane hard into the carpet and waving his free arm.

"Who do you think talked Lisa into this? Who do you think lied to the board about it and saved your sorry ass, again? Me and Jimmy, that's who!"

Cameron's words hit House hard. This was now the second time she'd saved his job. And Wilson? Really, House couldn't begin to count the number of times Wilson had bailed his ass out of some situation or another. Sometimes literally. Damn these people and their caring. What was he going to do when she finally got fed up with him too?


	34. Chapter 34

A/N: I'm so sorry it's been so long since an update. I've had a bit of writer's block. And the season finale took me a few days getting over.

Disclaimer: If they were mine, Chase would have packed his things and hopped back to Australia like a good little kangaroo when House fired him!

Chapter 34

House grumbled as he grabbed another chart from the seemingly endless stack in the clinic. _Just think, in a few short weeks there'll be even more of these idiots here,_ House thought bitterly to himself. He had no clue what made the hospital's board think expanding the free clinic was a good idea. It was a free clinic, for heaven's sake. It's not like they were making any money out of it. Sure, Cuddy had given him the whole spiel about lightening the load in the ER for non-emergent cases and goodwill in the community, yadda, yadda. No matter which way you sliced it, it just meant increasing amounts of moronic patients with sore throats, runny noses and things jammed into every possible bodily orifice.

"Melanie Shore," House said as he limped into Exam Room 2. "Says here you've got a sore throat, what an unusual symptom, and you're tired."

"The campus doctor said he couldn't test me for strep because my student health plan doesn't cover it. He said to come here," Melanie told him. "I don't want to miss a lot of classes."

"Right, those cotton swabs with the extra long handles must be a huge budget breaker," House grumbled. He sat down on the rolling chair provided in the exam room and hooked his cane on the sink. Rolling across to the cabinet on his right, he opened a drawer and pulled out a package. "So, you're a freshman?" he asked, donning a pair of gloves and rolling back to his patient.

"Pre-law," Melanie confirmed. "How did you know I was a freshman?"

"Only a freshman would be eager to go to class," House said. He opened the package and withdrew a long cotton swab. "Open up, say 'ah'." Melanie did so and House performed the throat culture, wincing as she gagged at him. "Lovely. I'll be back with your results. Sit tight."

House exited the room and instructed one of the clinic nurses to run a rapid strep test. He quickly dismissed a patient with a plantar's wart on his foot after assuring the man in his normally pleasant manner that it was not, in fact, a tumor. The nurse returned the results for Melanie's test: negative. House reentered Exam Room 2 to find her asleep on the exam table.

"Hey wake up!" House shouted. He'd already been in the clinic for over an hour and his patience was wearing mighty thin. "It's not strep. That means it's probably viral. Nothing much I can do for you. It should clear up on its own in a few more days. Rest, fluids, the non-alcoholic kind. Go."

Melanie dragged herself from the exam room reluctantly. House checked his watch; he still had forty-five more minutes in this infernal place. And Cuddy wanted more of these people here?

* * *

House finally escaped his clinic hell and hid out in his office for an hour. His next appointment with Dr. Jessup was later that afternoon, and House was really hoping for some good news this time. His leg had been bothering him more and more lately; it was nearly as bad now as it had ever been, even immediately after the infarction and surgery. He hadn't spoken to Cameron about it, but he was glad he'd given her that box. Another few days of this and its contents would have been noticeably depleted.

The alarm on his watch woke House from a light sleep about twenty minutes before his appointment. He'd told Cameron he had another appointment, but she hadn't been sure if she'd be able to make it. House made his way slowly to the elevators, glancing as casually as possible down the hall in case an immunologist/administrator should be trying to meet him at his office. When the elevator doors opened House got in and leaned against the back wall, hoping she was waiting to meet him at Dr. Jessup's office.

The elevator dinged and House stepped out to the surgical floor, shooting a quick glance in the direction of the central nurse's station. He walked down to Dr. Jessup's office and entered the waiting room, disappointed to find no Cameron there either. He nodded to the receptionist, and took a seat. Luckily all his dawdling had timed his arrival perfectly.

"Dr. House? Dr. Jessup will see you now." An older nurse, the sweet grandmotherly type, ushered him back to Dr. Jessup's office.

* * *

"A garden theme?" Cameron asked skeptically. "How do you plan to make the hospital look like a garden?"

"I don't," Cuddy smiled at her. "The university has a horticulture program. They have a beautiful garden on the far side of campus; it's modeled after the gardens at Versailles. Of course it's not nearly on that scale, but it has that same open feeling … I'm surprised you didn't know about it."

Cameron laughed and leaned back into the couch in Cuddy's office. The two women were currently discussing the hospital's annual fund raiser. Cameron had attended three now, but helping to plan one was quite a different experience.

"Just because I'm from the Midwest doesn't mean I'm into gardening or farming," Cameron said.

"I didn't mean that. It's just so beautiful, it reminds me of Paris," Cuddy smiled softly.

"I've never been," Cameron said.

"Oh Allison, you have to see Paris. It's amazing. No matter what you like, it's there. Theater, art, history, nightlife. You and House should think about it for a honeymoon trip," Cuddy suggested.

"Can you seriously picture Greg getting along with the French?" Cameron asked with a laugh. "How much time do you think we'd have before he insulted someone and … what time is it?"

"Two-thirty," Cuddy said absently. She'd been thinking of the view from the top of the Eiffel Tower at night. She wondered briefly if she and James might take a trip there after the baby came.

"Two-thirty?" Cameron gasped. "I'm missing his appointment. Lisa, the garden theme sounds fantastic, let me know what you need me to do, gotta run!"

* * *

House exited Dr. Jessup's waiting room and nearly collided with Cameron as she barreled down the hall.

"Where's the fire?" he asked.

"Did I miss it?" Cameron panted. House just nodded. He knew she wasn't going to like what he had to say. "So?"

"So, we need to get your stuff moved in soon," House told her. "I'm not helping you reorganize furniture in wheelchair."

"How soon?" Cameron asked.

"The surgery's in two weeks," House said.

* * *

Tuesday of the following week once again found House in the clinic, even grumpier than his usual clinic demeanor as he watched workmen in what had been Cuddy's office constructing new walls for the addition of the two new exam rooms. He practically snarled at Nurse Katie when she handed him a patient file and pointed him toward Exam Room 2.

"Melanie Shore," House said as he entered. "Sore throat, tired, chest pain." House stopped when he looked at the patient. "You again? I know you said pre-law and not pre-med, but I didn't think rest and fluids were that complicated."

"My throat is worse, my chest hurts and I feel like I'm out of breath all the time," Melanie said. "I know I'm pre-law and not pre-med, but that's not better."

House rolled his eyes. Why did everyone who came into this clinic think they knew more than him? He checked her temperature and it was slightly elevated. House took a stethoscope and listened to Melanie's chest and back.

"Any cough?" he asked. Melanie shook her head no. House checked her throat. "Just because it's not strep doesn't mean it's not bacterial." He took out his prescription pad and scribbled something on it. "Take this, if you don't feel better in a few days, come back when I'm not here."

* * *

Foreman, Cameron and Chase were eating lunch at a local café. The three of them had been together as House's fellows for the longest of any doctors on record. Before they started, no fellow had ever stayed more than a year. It was a testament to how well they'd worked as a team, despite their many conflicts, disagreements and out right fights.

Chase was telling Foreman a story about the first week he and Jasper lived together when she'd accidentally locked herself into the laundry room in his apartment building. Cameron was laughing lightly and Foreman was smirking and shaking his head.

"She was sleeping on top of the dryers when I found her," Chase said with a laugh.

"I can't believe you're really leaving in a week," Cameron said to Foreman.

"Believe it. My boxes are packed, my locker is empty and my charts are done," Foreman replied.

"Are you really that anxious to get out of here?" Chase asked him.

"I'm anxious to get where I'm going," Foreman replied. "It's different for you guys. You have relationships and lives here. I mean, I like you and all, but this is just a job," Foreman said.

Chase nodded. He knew Foreman was ambitious; he'd known from the first moment they'd met. Chase wasn't the 'climb the ladder' type. He was happy with his job; he knew he was doing good work and helping people.

Cameron nodded. She knew this was what Foreman had always wanted, a chance to run his own department. She also knew that he had family where he was going, and while he'd liked working with them they'd never really been all that close. Maybe part of the reason Cameron became attached to her coworkers was because she didn't have any family to speak of.

"Can a couple of newbies join the dream team?" Jasper asked. She and Price had come in for lunch and found them.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's exactly what House thought of us," Foreman scoffed. He scooted his chair over to the left and allowed Jasper to pull up a seat next to Chase. Price pulled up a chair on Chase's other side and planted himself next to Cameron.

"So Dr. Price, how are you feeling after your bout with influenza?" Cameron asked him softly.

"Much better, thank you," Price replied. He smiled encouragingly to let Cameron know he appreciated what she'd done for him. "Is Dr. House taking a vacation?"

"I beg your pardon?" Cameron asked.

"He told us he'd be out next week and maybe the week after," Jasper supplied. "Are you planning a trip? A honeymoon maybe?"

Cameron just shook her head no. House obviously hadn't told them about the surgery, and she wasn't about to. He was being ridiculous of course, as soon as the first nurse got a look at him the whole hospital would know about it. Cameron figured he just didn't want to put up with all the pep talks beforehand.

* * *

Wilson sat in his office and stared out toward the balcony. Spring was finally creeping up on New Jersey, and the pale blue sky looked incredibly inviting. For once, there was no last minute paperwork for a drug trial and no dying patient. Wilson was bored. On such rare occasions as this, normally Wilson would join House in whatever he was currently doing to avoid work.

Wilson pushed thoughts of House resolutely out of his mind. For the past ten years or so, House had been his main focus. Through two marriages, one affair and three girlfriends there had never been anyone who was as important to him as House. The moment Lisa had revealed he was going to be a father that changed. It had taken Wilson a good six months to realize it; but Lisa and his daughter were the most important things in his life and nobody, not even House, could change that.

Wilson was ashamed of himself that it had taken Lisa's collapsing to show him that despite how much he knew he loved her and the baby he was still putting House first. That was never going to happen again. No matter how lonely he was.

"Just go talk to him," a voice said from the doorway.

"No," he replied without turning around. He knew who it was; the hair on the back of his neck only stood up for one woman.

"He misses you," the voice told him. "And I know you miss him. Jimmy, you can still be his friend and not put him first."

Wilson waited until he knew she was gone. "No, I don't think I can."


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Friday morning dawned cool and crisp. Cameron climbed from her bed eager to start the day. Today would be her last day in this apartment. Moving men were coming tomorrow morning for her boxes and her treadmill. The rest of her furniture was going to charity; there simply wasn't room for it at House's place. Cameron opened her bedroom window and allowed the gentle spring breeze to freshen the room. She breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of early spring flowers. It smelled like …. a fresh start, promise, hope. It smelled like the future.

Cameron smirked wryly as she realized how incredibly corny that was. If House could hear her inner thoughts, and she wasn't entirely convinced he couldn't, he would have mocked her mercilessly for thinking something so … so … so Cameron. She'd changed quite a bit over the last few years working at PPTH, but her insistence in believing in the good of any situation came from a deep wellspring of hope that was as much a part of her as her liver or spleen. She couldn't be without it.

Across town, House wrinkled his forehead in a half-sleep. The bedroom had been stuffy last night and he'd cracked open a window before going to bed. He should have realized that meant he'd be bombarded with the sounds and scents of spring far too early in the damn morning. A bird was chirping; it sounded to House as though it were actually sitting on the window sill. A thick and cloying floral scent pervaded the room, so sweet it made House want to gag. He hated the smell of flowers; it always reminded him of a funeral parlor.

House dragged himself out of bed and slammed his window shut, but the damage had been done. The room still stunk of spring, and that bird must have had lungs like Aretha Franklin because House could still hear the annoying chirping. He gave up on going back to sleep and limped dejectedly into the bathroom to shower and get dressed for work. At least Cameron would be there this weekend. House frowned; she probably loved the spring and slept with the window open every night.

* * *

In the clinic once again, House was disturbed by how quickly the new exam rooms were coming together. Cameron hadn't even unpacked the boxes in her new office yet, but Exam Rooms 5 and 6 were almost ready for patients. House shuddered at the thought. He turned back to the nurse's station to be met by Nurse Katie's ever cheerful face. She handed him a patient file and pointed him toward Exam Room 3.

"Melanie Sho…" House read as the entered the room. "No. Are you kidding me?" He looked up and found the young co-ed sitting on the exam table. Another young girl stood on her left and an older woman on her right. "You're like the clinic patient who wouldn't die."

"Excuse me?" the older woman said. Her mother, House guessed, from the irritated way she spoke. "My daughter is sick and you think a joke about her dying is appropriate?"

"No, I think it's incredibly inappropriate. That's why I said it. It's kind of my thing," House said, as if that should have been clear. "You're the mother I take it?"

"Yes, I'm Katherine Shore."

"Fabulous. And you're …" House gestured to the other girl and then changed his mind. "Never mind, I don't really care."

"This is Jackie Trainer, Melanie's roommate," Mrs. Shore said.

"Somehow I knew you'd tell me anyway," House mumbled. "Let me guess," he said to Melanie, "Your throat hurts?"

"She didn't wake up this morning for her early class," Jackie answered. "I came back from jogging and she was in bed, she sounded like she could barely breathe, she was gasping. I took her temperature and it was 104," now she looked sheepishly at Mrs. Shore, "so I called her mom."

"Are you a doctor?" House asked Mrs. Shore.

"No."

"Good thinking," House said to Jackie. "Next time, call 911." He dropped the file on the counter and put on a pair of gloves. He placed a thermometer under Melanie's tongue and grabbed a stethoscope to listen to her chest. "Still no coughing?" Melanie shook her head. The thermometer beeped and House removed it. "103.4. Okay Melanie, what other symptoms have you not been telling me about?"

"I'm just more tired," Melanie said.

"She couldn't get out of bed by herself," Mrs. Shore supplied. "We had to practically carry her in here."

"Looks like the third time's a charm," House said pleasantly. "I'm going to admit you for some tests. One of my lackeys will be down to collect you and your bodily fluids."

House left the trio of ladies in the exam room and limped out to see Nurse Katie. She had a little crush on him and it was never easier for House to duck out of the clinic than when Katie was at the desk.

"Got a case," he announced. "Foreman will be down to admit her in a few minutes. Dr. House signing out at 1pm."

"Dr. House, it's only 12 o'clock," Nurse Katie protested, although not too vehemently.

"Yes, but the log book doesn't know that," House said. "Come on, you can wait until 1pm and then log me out, can't you?" He actually batted his eyelashes at her. It was a low trick, especially given she knew he wasn't available, but if it got him out of clinic early ….

"Fine," Nurse Katie agreed. House limped away, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Having Cuddy's office away from the clinic was the only good thing about this whole business.

* * *

House entered the conference room and tossed the file on the table, startling two of the three seated there. He grabbed a marker and began writing symptoms on the whiteboard. When he had finished, he turned back and waited until they'd all finished reviewing the file.

"Differential diagnosis, people," House said. "Why does this girl keep coming back to the clinic? It's sure not my sparkling bedside manner."

"No cough?" Price asked. House shook his head no. "Well, that rules out bronchitis, pneumonia, mono."

"Yeah, how about suggesting something it IS instead of telling me what it's not?" House snarked.

"Wegener's?" Price offered a little timidly.

"Foreman," House shouted as he rolled his eyes to the ceiling, "tell Dr. Price why Wegener's is a bad diagnosis."

"She doesn't have any nasal, skin or eye symptoms," Foreman answered.

"How about chicken pox?" Jasper suggested.

"Foreman," House shouted again, still staring at the ceiling, "care to shoot this theory down?"

"She doesn't have a rash anywhere and her fever is too high," Foreman replied, now using a bored tone of voice to let House know he didn't think this was funny.

"Actually," Jasper retorted a little snidely, "there's no such thing as a fever that's too high. Her own body temperature could be normally higher than 98.6, making a fever of 103 less severe. And it is possible to get chicken pox internally."

"Yes," House agreed. "And if she had blisters in her mouth or throat that would be an excellent diagnosis. But she doesn't. Nice try. Next?"

"Lymphocytic Choriomeningitis," Foreman suggested. House swung his eyes down from the ceiling to meet Foreman's, a pleased look on his face.

"There's no nausea or vomiting," House said.

"There's no neck pain yet either, but it could still be in the initial stages," Foreman said.

"Okay then, _Foreman, _check her blood count and liver enzymes. And get an LP," House said. He waited until Foreman left the room before turning to the other two. "Once he's done with that, I want a CAT scan of her neck."

Price and Jasper exchanged confused glances as House limped into his office. What was he looking for?

Chapter 46

"Why do you suppose he waited until Foreman was gone to ask for the CAT scan?" Price asked Jasper as they walked down the hall toward Melanie's room.

"He thinks Foreman is wrong," Jasper replied.

"Obviously, but why not say that? He certainly enjoyed telling us we were stupid," Price wondered. The pair reached Melanie's room, but Foreman was still inside finishing the LP.

"No, he didn't," Jasper said slowly. "He had Foreman tell us we're stupid."

"And then waited until Foreman was gone to prove … what?" Price asked.

"He's just as stupid as we are?" Jasper suggested.

Price and Jasper retreated a bit as Foreman exited Melanie's room. Whatever House was trying to prove, they had no desire to mess with it.

* * *

Cameron took a deep breath to steady her frazzled nerves. She hadn't been in her new office a week. There were still boxes everywhere, along with mountains of files and charts. For someone who thrived on organization and order, this was trying enough. Couple that with the disarray at her apartment which was a now a clutter of boxes, bags and packing crates and her incessant worrying about House's upcoming surgery and Cameron was a powder keg waiting to be set off.

Cameron had come into work that morning hoping to counter some of the chaos. Instead, chaos had planted himself on her couch and made himself comfy.

House had propped his cane on the arm of the sofa and stretched his arms across its back. He'd stretched his long legs out before him and crossed them at the ankles. Everything about his posture suggested he intended to be there for a while.

At first, Cameron had been able to ignore his presence and work. But as time wore on his unwavering stare became uncomfortable. Cameron glanced at him occasionally and was met each time with a placid countenance. Eventually unnerving became annoying. How long could he just sit there and stare at her?

She glanced one more time in his direction and was met with a pair of unblinking blue eyes. She closed her own oceanic orbs and counted to ten. She reminded herself that he too was worried about the surgery, he too was in an upheaval with having her move _and_ he was without his best friend of the last ten years. The guy needed a break.

"What time is your last appointment with Quig?" Cameron asked conversationally.

"Three," House answered.

Cameron looked at the clock; it was 1:30. "We've got an hour and a half to kill. So what do we do?"

"Excuse me?" House asked.

"I'm not ranking nurses on their hotness and I'm not gossiping about anything the weird night janitor told you," Cameron warned. "What else you got?"

"Want to thumb wrestle?" House smirked at her.

* * *

"So today's the last day you get to see my gorgeous mug," Quig said as House entered his office for their last appointment. There was just under two weeks left of House's probationary period. Since he was going to be out for the surgery, this was the end of his mandatory therapy.

"I've got a secret shrine set up in the closet," House joked. "It's not the same as the real thing, but it will have to do."

"When's the surgery?" Quig asked.

"Tuesday," House answered, now tapping his cane on the floor between his feet. Quig nodded. "That's it? No more prodding and poking into the deep recessed of my mind?"

"Something in particular you want to talk about?" Quig asked. House indicated no, but it was pretty clear to Quig that he lied. "Everything okay with you and Dr. Cameron? How are your confessions going?"

"Fine, they're fine," House said. "She's moving in this weekend."

"Excellent," Quig said. "Dr. Price is recovering from his influenza without complication?" Quig asked knowingly.

House rolled his eyes. "Price is fine."

Quig eyed House carefully and ran over everything he knew about the man. Whatever it was clearly bothered House a great deal or he'd never have brought it up. There were only two possibilities left.

"How's Dr. Cuddy feeling after her time off?" Quig asked.

"Fantastic. She's expanding the clinic and lording the extra patients over my head like …"

"A medieval lord?" Quig suggested lamely. House rolled his eyes again. Quig nodded. That only left one; that one was a biggie.

"So it's Dr. Wilson then," Quig said. "What happened?"

House made a face and looked guiltily away. "I happened."

"Spell it out for me," Quig prompted.

"He says he's done with me," House said. He tried to make sound like he didn't care, although he wasn't sure why. Quig already knew he did.

"You know how I love to diagnose people I've never met." Quig began and House smirked; they'd had this conversation before. "But if I were to venture a guess, I'd say that perhaps Dr. Wilson is realizing that his priorities have changed. He's about to become a father. He no longer has the ability to pour all of his being into his friendship with you."

"I never asked him to do that," House said defensively.

"And you never asked Dr. Cameron to love you like no other," Quig said. "It's how they operate. It's who they are. I don't think Dr. Cameron could love you any way other than to love you as if you were the only man she'd ever known. And neither could Dr. Wilson be your friend without feeling you're the only friend he's ever had."

"Yeah," House said morosely.

"If I'm right, and really, when aren't I, Dr. Wilson just needs a little time to adjust to his main focus being on Dr. Cuddy and the baby. Given some time, he'll be able to be your friend again. It might not be quite the same as it was before. But neither are you," Quig said.

"I haven't changed anything about how I treat Wilson," House said tiredly.

"No, but wouldn't your relationship with Dr. Cameron have changed your friendship with Dr. Wilson anyway? You're moving in together, getting married. A change was bound to happen. It will work itself out. Two people who care as much about each other will work it out," Quig reassured him. He looked at his watch and smiled. "Our time is up."

"Cliché-speaker," House shot.

"Pain in the ass," Quig retorted.

"Mouth-breather."

"Gimp."

"Nice," House said and offered Quig his hand. They shook and parted ways.


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N: Oops, I think I said last chapter that Foreman was making his final appearance. My bad. Really, truly this time I mean it, Foreman is going. The surgery is next, and then we'll be building up to the dramatic climax/finale!!!!**

Chapter 36

House limped into his office, scrubbing his hand over his face tiredly. He hadn't been sleeping well and spring in all its glory had woken him far too early that morning. He sank into his office chair and hooked his cane on the edge of the desk, wondering briefly if he would continue to need it. He'd been avoiding thinking about what the surgery could mean if it were successful. Thinking about that inevitably led to thinking about what would happen if the surgeons failed. He was doing it; that was as far as he'd let himself think about it.

House checked his watch and realized he hadn't heard from the team and had no idea what was going on with his patient. How long could a CT and an LP take? He toyed with the idea of going to check on her himself, but his leg and drooping eyelids vetoed that idea fairly quickly. Instead, he paged them and leaned back, kicking his legs onto the desk to catch a few winks while he waited.

* * *

Foreman grabbed his pager from his hip and scowled. House wanted him in his office. Foreman took his test results and trudged toward House's office. The LP had been clear. Price and Jasper had effectively disappeared and Foreman suspected that House had set him up. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised; House had been a little too eager for his input during the differential. That really should have tipped him off. 

Foreman entered House's office and found him sleeping at his desk. He smirked and promised himself he'd never be sleeping behind his desk while his employees ran themselves ragged. He dropped his file on the desk loudly. House started awake.

"LP was clear." Foreman said glumly.

"No," House gasped in mock surprise. "What about the CT?" Foreman raised an eyebrow inquisitively. House _had_ set him up.

"We couldn't get the CT," Jasper announced as she entered behind Foreman. "She collapsed before we could get her in."

"What happened?" House asked.

"Pulmonary embolism," Jasper replied. "Ultrasound revealed at least four, this latest one is massive. Price is getting her prepped now. She needs surgery."

"She needs a CT," House insisted.

"Yeah, well the CT will be less useful if we let the PE kill her," Jasper spat back.

"And if we don't find out what's causing the PE's the next one could kill her before we can fix it," House snapped.

The sound of Foreman's beeper stopped the argument mid-stream. He pulled it from his hip and frowned. Reaching across House's desk, he pushed the speaker phone on and dialed.

"Pathology Lab."

"This is Dr. Foreman."

"Dr. Foreman, the blood work is back on your patient Melanie Shore."

"Thanks, I'll come down and pick it up." Foreman reached across the desk a second time to hang up.

"Dr. Foreman? The cultures revealed septicemia."

"Crap," House muttered.

"She can't have the surgery, she'll go into septic shock," Jasper said.

"Ya think!" House shouted. He nodded at Foreman. "Go." Foreman dashed out of the office while Jasper reached for the phone to try and stop the surgical team before it was too late.

* * *

Cameron arrived at House's office at the end of a very long day, ready to go home. She found standing out side the offices, and smiled when she noted the expression on his face as he watched Jasper. 

"They in for a long night?" Cameron asked as she walked up beside him.

"Looks that way," Chase answered. He sighed and turned to Cameron. "Would you like to get a drink?"

"Sure," Cameron smiled. "Let me go and say goodnight to Greg first." Chase nodded and Cameron entered House's office, while Chase went to the conference room to speak to Jasper.

"Tough case?" Cameron asked as she entered. House looked up from the computer and shrugged. "Want some help?"

"Don't you still have packing stuff to do?"

"Yes, but I'm tired of boxes," Cameron sighed.

"Go. Pack. That's more important," House said as he turned back to the computer. Cameron glowed. The idea that anything was more important than a case was amazing; the fact that he'd just admitted she was more important was nothing short of a miracle.

"Chase and I are going out for a drink first," Cameron said. House looked at her with narrowed eyes and Cameron laughed. "I'm pretty sure I can restrain myself."

"Just to make sure," House stood from behind the desk and stalked toward Cameron with a predatory growl. Making sure that Chase was watching he pulled Cameron close to him and kissed her deeply. She moaned a soft moan against his lips. Satisfied, House released her and limped to the door. He opened it and sneered at Chase. "Mine." Chase held up his hands in a gesture of surrender while Jasper laughed. _Jealous House is kind of cute,_ she thought.

* * *

Cameron and Chase ran into Wilson and Cuddy in the lobby on their way out. There was an awkward silence as the foursome crossed the lobby toward the exit. Chase wasn't aware of the reasons behind the sudden tension, but there was no mistaking it. He watched as Cameron and Cuddy exchanged a sad smile behind Wilson's back. 

"Dr. Cameron and I are going out for a drink," Chase volunteered. "Care to join us?"

"Yes," Cuddy said.

"No," Wilson declined. Cuddy gave Wilson a meaningful look. He rolled his eyes and finally nodded. Chase watched as Wilson rubbed a nervous hand on the back of his neck. This should be interesting.

* * *

House, Foreman and Jasper sat anxiously in the conference room waiting for Price to bring the CT results. House was tired, his leg hurt and he longed to be home with Cameron. This was his last working day before his surgery and he was desperate to get this case solved. He wouldn't be able to leave until the patient was diagnosed, knowing it would be a couple of weeks at least before he could return. 

Jasper tapped her fingernails on the glass table in a light staccato rhythm. She and House had continued arguing after Foreman had dashed off to stop the patient's surgery. If she had bacteria in her blood stream it meant that whatever the infection was it was throwing clots, which obviously explained the PE's. That should have been good news, except the patient had already been on antibiotics and wasn't improving. House seemed to take this as a personal affront and lashed out; Jasper just happened to be on the receiving end. Rob had warned her that House could be temperamental, but having finally seen it up close and personal she thought he might have underplayed it slightly.

Foreman was just plain annoyed. Today was his last day at PPTH, a day he had hoped would pass without incident and yet here he still was at nearly 10pm. Not only that, but House had taken great pleasure in shooting down his theory, going so far as to torpedo him with Price and Jasper's help. Foreman wasn't sure what exactly House was trying to prove by doing that, but if his intention had been to piss him off he'd succeeded.

Price arrived in the conference room with the CT results and noted the palpable tension. He could guess why Foreman was so aggravated; nobody enjoyed being shown up at work and certainly House went about with a dramatic flair. Price knew that Jasper had somehow gotten on House's nerves and he'd given her a good tongue lashing so the tension there was no surprise either. But something was definitely bothering House besides just this case. Price had no idea what it was, but he sincerely hoped it had nothing to do with him.

Deciding silence was his safest option Price simply walked through the conference room and into House's office where he put the CT scans on the light board. Foreman and Jasper filed in eagerly behind him and peered over his shoulder, while House took his time joining them.

"There," Foreman said.

"Where?" Price asked.

"She's got a peritonsillar abscess," Foreman pointed.

"Peritonsillar abscess is caused by strep," Jasper said confusedly. "She's been on antibiotics though."

"Hang on," Price said, "I'm remembering something I read."

"This could take a while," House said under his breath. "Something medically relevant? Or an article from the latest issue of … what's they gay man's version of Playboy?"

Price scowled. "Something from my citizenship class." House raised his eyebrows in surprise. "George Washington's death was never explained medically, but some recent historians have theorized that he died from an undiagnosed case of Quinsy."

"She's already on antibiotics," Jasper repeated in frustration.

"Not Quinsy," House said in low voice. He was mostly talking to himself. When the three other occupants of the room turned their eyes on him he looked up. "The abscess has to be drained surgically. Test whatever pus you suck out of it and you'll find fusobacterium necrophorum." The three younger doctors exchanged glances. "Lemierre Syndrome. The forgotten disease. She needs a course of metronidazole once the diagnosis is confirmed."

Price and Jasper nodded to House and left to see about draining Melanie's abscess and starting her treatment. Foreman stood quietly and stared at the floor for a minute before he spoke.

"You enjoy going behind my back to disprove my theory?" he asked House.

"I didn't enjoy it or not enjoy it," House said indifferently. "I thought you could use a reminder that just because you're not the student anymore doesn't mean you can't still be wrong."

"Right," Foreman said. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," House said. And if Foreman hadn't been so wrapped up in being angry with him, he might have heard the sincerity in House's voice.

* * *

Chase and Cameron sat uncomfortably with Cuddy and Wilson at a local restaurant. They'd chosen this place rather than a bar so that they could sit somewhere that wasn't smoke-filled out of consideration for Cuddy. So far there had been a few short bursts of conversation, centered mostly on how Cameron was getting along in unpacking her new office and how Chase liked the NICU. 

Tense and tired and not looking forward to packing up the last of her apartment at 3am, Cameron checked her watch as discreetly as possible. She didn't want to be rude, but this wasn't what she'd had in mind when Chase had suggested a drink.

"So Cameron, what's with House's vacation?" Chase finally asked in an attempt to draw out what ever was bothering Wilson.

"Excuse me?" Cameron asked him.

"Mikki told me House is taking some time off work," Chase said. "You're not, though. Is he going somewhere? Visiting his parents maybe?" Chase knew full well that House would never spend any vacation time visiting his parents; especially with the lengths he'd gone to avoid a simple dinner with them a few years back.

Cameron looked at Cuddy for help but was let down. Cuddy merely shrugged. In fact, Cuddy was thrilled to have Chase say something. She'd been dying to tell Wilson about House's surgery but as the doctor who had final approval over all experimental procedures at the hospital she was bound not to say anything. Cameron had abided by House's wishes to not discuss it. Wilson knew nothing.

"I … uh, he's … ugh," Cameron stuttered. In reality, she really needed to talk to Wilson about this. Everyone would know on Tuesday anyway, she reasoned, so why not tell him. "He's having surgery."

Wilson's head jerked up from staring at the bubbles lazily climbing the sides of his beer stein.

"Surgery?" Chase asked concerned. House wasn't his favorite person, but he wouldn't wish him ill. "What sort of surgery?"

"He's participating in Dr. Jessup's clinical trials for nerve grafting," Cameron told Chase, carefully watching Wilson the whole time.

"Wow," Chase breathed. "What's his success rate?"

As Cameron and Chase discussed the surgery in greater detail, Wilson allowed their voices to fade away. House was having surgery. Major, life-altering surgery and Wilson hadn't known. He felt … he didn't know what he felt. His head was a swirl of hurt, betrayal, worry and anger. How could he decide something like that without talking to him about it? How was he going to recuperate? Did he have a backup plan if the surgery didn't work? Who was going to …

"Thanks Chase," Cameron's voice broke into Wilson's thoughts as she leaned across the table to give Chase a one-armed hug.

Wilson stood up abruptly and reached for his wallet. He dropped a twenty on the table and slid from the booth without a word. Cuddy gave Cameron and Chase an apologetic shrug and followed him out the door.

"Jimmy, what's wrong?" she asked when she caught up with him outside. Wilson just shook his head, unable to answer. He turned to look at her and tears coursed silently down his cheeks. Cuddy embraced him as best as her pregnant belly would allow. "He's going to be okay," she reassured him.

* * *

Monday night Cameron sunk into the couch next to House in an exhausted stupor. The movers had come and gone, leaving towers of boxes leaning precariously in every possible corner of the apartment. Furniture had been roughly shoved aside to accommodate crates of books and movies. The entire place was in complete disarray. 

Saturday afternoon Cameron had dutifully begun unpacking in the bedroom and quickly discovered there was precious little room for her things. What had begun as gentle suggestions about moving some of House's things to storage had rapidly dissolved into sniping and tears. Their first night living together had not been spent as Cameron had imagined, making love into the wee hours and sleeping late. Rather it had been spent lying silently beside each other, tapping the sheets and staring at the ceiling in barely disguised anger.

Sunday morning had not gotten off to a promising start. Nervous about his upcoming surgery and with a mostly sleepless night behind him, calling House surly would have been charitable. He had planted himself on the couch and watched TV with the volume turned as loud as he could stand it. It was apparently louder than the neighbors could stand, however, and Cameron barely managed to convince them not to call the police. No unpacking was done.

Monday Cameron had gratefully risen early and left for work without a word to House. She hadn't even woken him. Annoyed already, House was incensed when he woke up alone. Thinking that having the morning alone would have allowed him time to cool off, Cameron had called at lunch time to see if House might want to get a bite to eat. He'd refused to answer the phone. Cameron fretted the rest of the afternoon, alternately angry at him for being so childish and angry with herself for arguing with him before his surgery.

On the way home from the hospital on Monday evening, Cameron had been struck with a paralyzing thought. _Is this how he pushed Stacey out of his life?_ Cameron had to pull over and staggered from the car, barely avoiding throwing up all over her shoes. Of all the times for Wilson to be distancing himself, this had to be the worst. He was the only one who had really survived the infarction with his friendship intact.

Cameron arrived at House's place, _home,_ she reminded herself, and went straight to the kitchen. She began working on dinner and once things were simmering nicely she went to the bathroom and unpacked one box. It was one box, but it felt like such an accomplishment she could practically see the tension escaping her body. She could unpack one box a day.

Dinner was eaten in silence; but it was a more comfortable silence than they'd slept in the past two nights. The occasional furtive glance was cast by one or the other. When dinner was done, Cameron was surprised when House carried his own dishes to the kitchen. He didn't stay to help wash, but it was an effort.

Finally, Cameron plopped herself on the couch. She was tired. The last few days had been physically and emotionally draining. House looked pointedly at the space Cameron had left between them on the couch. Cameron stared back lazily. House rolled his eyes dramatically, but scooted closer. Cameron kicked his ankle. House kicked her back. She angled herself closer and planted a soft elbow to his midsection. He deftly yanked a lock of her hair.

"Ass."

"Loser."

"Pain."

"Cry-baby."

"Love you."

"Ditto."


	37. Chapter 37

**AN: Okay, so I know this one is a lot shorter than the last few I've posted. And I also know that it jumps around a lot, but I wanted to get in a little bit of what everyone was thinking about the surgery etc. **

**Disclaimer: Do I have to? **

Chapter 37

Against House's wishes, Cameron entered his hospital room after the nurse had finished prepping him for the surgery. His head was turned toward the window and he either didn't hear her enter or decided not to acknowledge her. She stepped to the side of the bed and placed her hands gingerly on the rail. Just the sight of him in that gown, IV tubes running out of his arm and monitors beeping, turned her stomach. The last time she'd seen him like this he'd been bullet ridden and comatose and she'd been hoping desperately he'd wake up without pain.

"At least this time you're not full of hot lead," Cameron said quietly.

House turned his head toward her and frowned at the lame joke. He'd asked her not to come in here. He didn't like her seeing him like this; he didn't like anyone seeing him like this but especially her. It made him feel … he couldn't name it. Most emotions were foreign to him and the ones that made him uncomfortable were best left unnamed. It made them easier to dismiss.

"You're not supposed to be here," House replied.

"I can't live by your rules," Cameron quipped. House allowed a slight grin to pass his lips. She was trying to make him comfortable. It was just so _Cameron_.

"You finish unpacking your boxes?" House asked. It was something of a running joke between them now. She'd moved in to his apartment days ago, and so far all they'd done was move boxes from one room to another. Only Cameron's treadmill had survived the move; there was simply no room for any other furniture at his place. Unfortunately, neither was there room for more clothes, books or movies. Even the treadmill was currently folded up and taking up space in the kitchen.

"Yep," Cameron said. "It was much easier once you'd left. I just threw out anything that was taking up space I needed." House made a face at her. He didn't want to have this talk. This was the goodbye talk, the 'I love you' in case something went wrong talk. He'd made her swear last night on a Rolling Stones album that she wouldn't cry and he intended to make sure she kept that promise.

"Sure, wait until I'm laid up and then just take over," House said. "Typical."

"You know me, always stepping on someone's toes to get my own way," Cameron said. "Oh no, wait, that's not me. Who does that?"

"You suck at this," House complained.

"Sorry, I'm lacking practice in giving sarcastic pep talks to my fiancé before major surgery," Cameron retorted.

"That was better," House allowed.

Before they could say anything more two nurses entered the room and began wheeling House out of the room. Cameron stepped back and let him go; it was hard, impossible almost, but she'd sworn to him he would see no tears. House closed his eyes and forced an image of a crying Stacy out of his mind. This wasn't like that, he told himself.

Cameron followed the gurney out of the room and stopped in the hall as an orderly spun it around and headed down the hall. She smiled at House brightly as he passed, hoping it didn't look as fake to him as it felt to her.

"Stay out of my CDs," he warned her as they wheeled him past. Cameron gave a smart salute, not trusting her own voice. When the double doors at the end of the hall swung shut, she leaned against the wall and slid to the floor in a wet mess of tears.

* * *

Wilson watched Cameron and House from behind the nurse's station. He had tried to force himself to go in there and say something before it was too late but his stubborn feet just wouldn't follow his commands. He and Cuddy had a long talk about House, the surgery, the baby and their future after drinks with Chase and Cameron and Wilson had come to a decision. He needed House.

It wasn't House's fault that Wilson had put him first. House had never asked him to do that. In fact, House had rarely asked him for anything but Vicodin and the occasional bail money. He hadn't even started out asking for lunch. Whatever imbalance there was between them was all on Wilson. House took because Wilson gave. It was Wilson's issue too, not just House's.

Wilson watched as his best friend was wheeled out of his room and through the swinging doors and berated himself for being too chicken to talk to him. Then his warm brown eyes turned and watched Cameron, Cameron who had been smiling and joking with House just seconds ago, slide to the floor in a puddle of helplessness.

Wilson's paralysis broke. He strode across the hall and sunk to the floor beside her, drawing her into his arms and letting her tears soak his favorite green tie. He sighed. House had always hated that tie. Maybe this was a fitting end to its existence.

* * *

Cuddy sat at her desk, randomly pulling charts and making nonsensical notes. When she looked down at the file she was working on and realized that she couldn't even read her own handwriting she flung her pen to the desk in frustration and looked at her watch again. It was only three minutes since the last time she'd checked. He would be in surgery for at least another two hours. Conceding defeat, she left her office and went upstairs where she found Wilson and Cameron on the couch in his office. Cameron's head was resting on Wilson's chest and she looked as though she was getting the first sleep she'd had in days. Cuddy's eyes met Wilson's and he smiled. She sat on the other side of him and let her head join Cameron's on his chest. Wilson just pulled his girls tighter and closed his eyes to wait.

Jasper and Chase sat quietly in the cafeteria, each picking at a lunch they weren't really hungry for. Jasper sighed and grabbed Chase's arm to look at his watch again. Another hour at least. Chase reached forward and caressed the side of her face with his palm. She smiled, but it didn't erase the worry from her eyes.

Price slapped another file on the nurse's desk in the clinic and sighed. He couldn't explain to himself, the man had been nothing but a complete bastard to him, but he was worried. He straightened the name tag on his lab coat so the Dr. House was more readily visible and took another file.

* * *

House woke up in his room alone. He knew Cameron was waiting outside; he could feel her out there clenching. He'd insisted that she not be allowed into the recovery room until he'd given his okay. It wasn't easy; he longed to bury his face in her hair and pretend he was in a tropical rainforest. But he discussed the chances of the surgery's success with Dr. Jessup carefully and he knew that what his leg felt like when he woke up would be a pretty good indication of what it would feel like going forward.

Throat scratchy and eyes dry, House shifted in bed and winced. His leg hurt.

* * *

Cameron paced back in forth outside the recovery room furiously. House had instructed the nurses not to let anyone in the room until he gave his approval. She had wanted to be there when he woke up. She couldn't believe he would shut her out like this now, after she'd spent the past year chipping away at the wall he put up around himself. She'd just managed to bore herself a little hole, barely large enough for her to squeeze through and there he was on the other side, shoveling in cement.

Wilson watched Cameron with concern. The longer she waited the angrier she became. At first, when the nurses had refused her admittance, she had been silent. Too hurt or too stunned that House was keeping her out, Wilson couldn't tell. But as she walked the short stretch of hallway the hurt had been replaced with a cold fury. Her strides had lengthened until she was crossing the hall in three steps instead of seven. By her tenth pass, she was clenching and unclenching her fists at her sides.

Cameron turned at the far end of the hall for her eleventh pass by the doors that would lead her to House and Wilson saw her eyes flashing dangerously. If House wasn't in pain when he woke up, Wilson was pretty sure he would be when Allison got in there. When she reached Wilson's side he glanced at her hands as she unfisted her fingers and saw blood on the nails.

"Allison," he said quietly. She stopped, surprised, as if she'd forgotten he was even there. Gently Wilson grasped one of her hands and lifted it. She had been clenching so fiercely her nails had pierced the palms of her hands.

"Why is he doing this?" Cameron's voice broke and Wilson ground his teeth. Whatever reasons House thought he had for keeping her away weren't worth what this was doing to her, what they were making her do to herself.

"I don't know," Wilson said. "Come on, let's go clean these up. It'll only take a few minutes. When we get back, maybe he'll be ready to see people."

Cameron allowed Wilson to walk her to the elevators, a firm but gentle hand gripping her arm just above the elbow. She could barely think straight, her head and her heart swirling with doubt and seething with anger.

* * *

Cuddy had returned to her office before House was due out of surgery. As much as she'd wanted to stay and wait, there was work to be done. Cameron was certainly in no shape to be working today and the hospital wouldn't run itself. Cuddy knew she wouldn't have the concentration or the energy to chart. She busied herself with the little details of the hospital's upcoming fundraiser. Food and drink, music and decorations. She chatted with caterers and designers. She debated between a harpist and a string quartet. And as she hung up the phone after negotiating the price of the tent rentals a marvelous idea occurred to her. Grinning from ear to ear, Cuddy grabbed her purse and took out her personal address book. If she was going to pull this off, she needed help. And fast.

* * *

House grabbed both rails of the bed tightly and shifted his weight once more. He gritted his teeth in anticipation and gingerly began testing out his leg. Twisting his ankle and knee left to right, rolling his hips and finally lifting his leg off the bed an inch or two.

It hurt. A lot. It was a sharp, glassy pain. It was intense. And it was focused. Focused on the six or seven inch incision in the midst of his scar tissue. The ache was gone. The constant, bone deep pain that had been his hell for the past six years was gone. He let his head lean back against the bed and began to laugh.


	38. Chapter 38

**AN: Just a brief chapter to start off the final two story arcs. There will probably be no more than five more chapters in this story, if that many. I'm planning on ending with a bang!**

Chapter 38

House heard the door to his room slide open and turned, expecting Cameron to greet him. Instead, a furious looking Wilson entered and slid the door shut behind him.

"I thought you were done with me," House sniped at him.

"If I wasn't before, this latest stunt would be enough to convince me," Wilson spat at him. He was angry. Not just about Cameron, but about Cuddy as well. "Do you have any idea what you did to her?"

"Oh get it over it," House said. "Everyone else moved on. You're the only one still holding a grudge."

"Not Lisa, you ass, Allison!" Wilson exploded. "God, are you really that self-absorbed that you couldn't see what would happen?"

"I'm sure I'll regret this, but what the hell are you talking about?" House asked angrily.

"Allison! Has been pacing out there for hours, worrying herself sick over you only to find out that you didn't want her here when you woke up!" Wilson was shouting, taking all his frustrations out on House. His anger over what had happened with Price and Cuddy, his annoyance over what he'd just done to Cameron but mostly his hurt that House had never talked to him about this surgery.

"Look, Wilson. I get that you've made it your mission in life to take care of needy women, but taking on two at a time is really a little much, even for you," House said. He couldn't believe Wilson's nerve. After telling him their decade long friendship was over, Wilson still felt like he had the right to lecture him about his behavior.

"Well who else is looking out for her?" Wilson demanded. "You? You were so wrapped up in whatever was going on in your head to consider what it was doing to her. Just like you always do. You've spent years convincing yourself that nothing anybody else does matters to you. Dammit, House, when are you going to get it? What you do matters to other people!"

"Jimmy," House said in a low voice. It was enough to stop Wilson. "If it didn't work," he fiddled with the bed sheets. "I had to know first, so I could be ready to be there for her."

"Stupid ass," Wilson muttered. "She wanted to be there for you."

House and Wilson just stared at each other for a minute before House looked away. Wilson sighed. It had only taken a few minutes, but he'd been sucked back in. It was like House was a celestial being, drawing people in with gravitational force.

"She stopped in the ladies room. She wanted to wash her face before she came in; she was muttering something about a Stones album," Wilson waved a hand and then looked as his watch. "She should be okay when she gets in here, but you better make sure she understands why you did it."

"She will," House said. Then he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What do you mean, she should be okay when she gets in here?"

"I, uh," Wilson rubbed the back of neck guiltily. "I … put a couple of valium in her tea."

"You dosed her?"

"She needed it," Wilson said defensively. Before House could respond, the door slid open and Cameron entered. House noticed the bandages on her hands immediately and looked a question at Wilson, who shrugged and stepped out of the room.

"Hey," House said cautiously. He saw Cameron clench her fists and then wince. He realized what must have happened to her hands and felt a surge of unexpected guilt.

Cameron walked slowly to the edge of the bed and rested her hands on the rail, just as she had done when he was being prepped. She looked at him and when House met her eyes his guilt tripled.

"You can push all you want, I'm not going," Cameron said. Her voice was calm enough, thanks to Wilson, but it was low and serious and House had no doubt she meant every word she said. "The good, the bad and everything in between, that's what I want. I can handle whatever you want to throw at me. You're not as tough as you think."

House nodded a quick nod. He saw Wilson shoot him an exasperated look from the hall.

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

House reached a hand out and squeezed her wrist, avoiding adding any discomfort to the wounds on her hands.

"So?" she asked.

"No more pain," he answered. Cameron smiled and let tears run down her cheeks, The Rolling Stones be damned.

"You're still a pain," she said.

"And I always will be," House assured her.

* * *

"That may be the most diabolical thing I've ever heard come out of your mouth," House said appreciatively to Cuddy. They were seated at a table in the corner of the cafeteria, Cuddy picking at a salad and House devouring his second plate of french fries. "Think we can pull it off?"

"Do you doubt me?" Cuddy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Always," House said witheringly. "You don't think she'll be mad?"

"I haven't asked her, but she's unwittingly divulged some information that leads me to believe not," Cuddy said archly. House grinned and shook his head.

"You've been questioning her?"

"Not questioning," Cuddy qualified, "discussing."

"Uh-huh," House replied. "Because this sort of thing comes up in casual conversation."

"No," Cuddy said, rolling her eyes. "She's helping me plan it without even knowing." Cuddy slid an invitation to the hospital fund raiser across the table to House. He glanced at it quickly and realization came.

"I take it back, that may the most diabolical thing I've ever heard come out of _anyone's_ mouth," House said. He glanced at the invitation again. "Wilson's in?"

"He knows. As far as anything else goes, that's up to you," Cuddy said, looking pointedly at him. She checked her watch. "She'll be here to drive you home any minute. I've got to run."

"Waddle," House mumbled under his breath.

"Cripples shouldn't throw stones," Cuddy sniped at him as she piled her napkin and utensils in to the mostly empty salad container. "How's the physical therapy going this time?"

"Not terrible," House admitted. "I should be out of this damn chair in a couple of days."

"Good," Cuddy smiled at him. She stood up and took her trash from the table.

"My god Cuddy, Allison is supposed to be the one becoming a house, not you," House quipped as her ample pregnant belly cast a shadow across his fries.

"How long have you been waiting to use that one?" Cuddy asked in disgust.

"About a month," House admitted. "Had to wait until you had the proper girth."

"Nice to know some things never change," Cuddy said. She turned and walked out, tossing her trash as she exited.

House leaned as far back as the wheelchair would allow and thought over what Cuddy was proposing. It had barely been two weeks since the surgery, but he was already working on the physical therapy. His pain was gone, but with it a little of the muscle control had gone as well. The surgery had left a few dead spots where the nerves simply didn't function anymore. Great for pain relief, not so great for walking.

* * *

Cameron settled into her desk chair and picked up the file she'd been poring over all day. She'd just come back from driving House home after his physical therapy appointment. He was making really good progress, from her point of view. By week's end he'd be out of the wheelchair and returning to work. It would certainly make their home life easier; maneuvering his wheelchair around the boxes still jammed into their cramped apartment was nearly impossible.

Cameron shook her head and tried to concentrate on the file again. This case was really bothering her, but she couldn't really put a finger on why. House would have been obvious in his attempt to make her admit it bothered her because the patient was a toddler and she would have been annoyed, which was a big part of the reason she hadn't brought this case to him for a consult yet.

The other part was just sheer obstinance. All those years of working for House were supposed to have taught her to be a better diagnostician. She wasn't readily willing to admit she couldn't figure out this little boy's symptoms. She sighed again and jotted a note to do some research on DiGeorge Syndrome later.

"Hey," Cuddy said as she tapped her nails on Cameron's open office door.

"Sit down and put your feet up," Cameron said without looking up from the file. Cuddy smirked and sighed at the same time; sometimes Cameron was such a mother hen. She wondered how House put up with that.

"I don't do it to House," Cameron said, still not looking up.

"How did you know that's what I was thinking?" Cuddy asked.

"Because I've been taking my excess mother hen tendencies out on you to avoid doing it at home," Cameron said. She made one final note and looked up at Cuddy.

"Wow," she breathed. "Sorry, maybe it's that dress or maybe you've dropped but oh, Lisa, you're just … "

"Enormous. I know, I know. You're darling fiancé advised me at lunch time."

"Oh no, did he use the 'house' joke?" Cameron asked sympathetically. "I tried to tell him it wasn't funny, but you know Greg."

"It was pretty much a given," Cuddy agreed. "Speaking of your worse-half, have you guys set a date yet?"

"Not yet. It's been a little hectic with the move and his surgery, we haven't really talked about it," Cameron said automatically. Her eyes drifted down to the file on her desk. "Hey Lisa, what you would say about a toddler with constant vomiting, dehydration, fevers and recurrent infections that go in cycles?"

"Cycles? Cushing's can be cyclical, although that's pretty rare," Cuddy commented.

"Yeah, that's on my list too. Three other doctors have diagnosed a milk protein allergy, but that can't be it. The symptoms come back no matter what his diet is like," Cameron said.

"It definitely sounds like some kind of food allergy, and recurrent infections… it's got to be autoimmune. Lupus?" Cuddy suggested.

"Lisa," Cameron deadpanned, "it's never, ever lupus." Cuddy rolled her eyes. "I already tested him for that anyway; it's really not lupus this time."

"What did House say?" Cuddy asked.

"I … haven't asked him," Cameron hedged.

"Allison," Cuddy rebuked her.

"I know, I know. I just don't want to deal with the mocking and the teasing and the calling me an idiot and …"

"Point taken. And back to subject of your man, I had a thought," Cuddy said. Cameron raised an intrigued eyebrow. Cuddy laid out her plan and Cameron's grin grew wider and wider with every word.

"Do you think we could really pull that off?" Cameron asked. "You have no idea how much I want to pull one over on him. Well, actually you probably do, which just makes this even more brilliant. What about Jimmy?"

"He's in, and I'm pretty confident I can ensure his silence," Cuddy said. "So?"

"Sounds like a plan to me," Cameron agreed. The two women smiled conspiratorially.


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Week One

"I hate this freaking walker," House snapped as the rear leg of the walker got tangled in one of the conference table chairs for the third time that morning. He jerked the walker hard and almost overbalanced.

"Right, the walker has it in for you," Jasper said. House shot her a glare that could have stripped the paint of the walls. She smiled apologetically and House narrowed his eyes. "Sorry," she mumbled and blushed. House continued to glare at her until she dropped her eyes.

"Which one of you is doing my clinic duty today?" House asked as he tried to balance himself against the sink while juggling the coffee pot and keeping one hand planted on his walker.

"I am," Price volunteered. He stood up and made as if to help House with the coffee but quickly backed off when House growled at him. "I think I'll go right now and finish your hours early," he said as he hastily retreated.

"And I'll just go and troll the ER for something interesting," Jasper said as she too exited quickly from the wrath of House.

House sighed in aggravation. He wasn't upset with Price or Jasper. They'd been nothing but helpful and supportive. In fact, everyone had been nothing but helpful and supportive. The nurses were polite and caring, the lab techs were thorough and prompt, hell even his Rubens had been pickle-less for the past three days. It was driving him nuts. He was tired of everyone treating him like he needed coddling.

House ripped open the bag of pre-measured coffee beans violently and it sprayed its contents in a mocha scented explosion.

"Aaargh!" House shouted. If he could have hopped up and down in frustration he would have done so.

"Give me that," Wilson commanded as he walked into the conference room from the hall. He'd seen Price and Jasper fleeing and figured it was time for House to release a little pent up frustration. Wilson could draw out pent up Housian anger and channel it away from the innocent masses. Like a lightning rod.

"I don't need your help to make a simple pot of coffee," House snarled at Wilson.

"Clearly," Wilson said dryly. "Just give me the damn pot before it gets smashed."

"The only way this pot is getting smashed," House said in a warning tone, "is if I crack it over your meddling head."

"Good thing I'm in a hospital then," Wilson said. He grabbed the pot out of House's hand and stared at him until House made his way to the nearest chair, thumping his walker loudly on the floor as he went. "You make crappy coffee anyway."

"No I don't."

"Yes you do."

"Don't."

"Do."

"I'm sick of everybody coddling me," House complained.

"I'm not coddling you, I'm making coffee," Wilson said.

"Because you think I can't make it myself," House said.

"I don't coddle you," Wilson reasoned. He'd finished cleaning up the spilled coffee grounds and opened another bag. He poured them into the filter and then opened one of the drawers, taking out the secret stash of cinnamon for flavoring. "I've never coddled you. Cajoled, chastised, conspired with, coerced and co-habitated. But never coddled."

House chuckled. He had sorely missed this sort of banter with Wilson and now more than ever he needed that normalcy. It was lacking nearly everywhere else. Even with Cameron. She was trying her hardest to treat him like always, but she was inevitably bearing the brunt of his recovery at home. And their new living situation meant there was no hiding anything from her.

"Fine. You don't coddle me. And as long as we never get to cuddle or consummate, I think we're good," House relented.

"Then we'd better never go to Mardi Gras again," Wilson said.

"I have _got_ to hear about this Mardi Gras trip," Cameron said from the doorway. She had been leaning there listening for the past few minutes, but neither of them had noticed her.

"No," House said quickly.

"Sure," Wilson said amiably.

"Wilson!" House shouted. "We swore a blood oath. Do I have to remind you of the penalties for breaking said oath?"

Wilson paled. "Sorry, Allison."

"I'm going to hear this story one way or another," Cameron said determinedly. "That's not why I'm here. Greg, I have a case I want you to look at."

"I don't want to take a new patient right now," House said quietly. "I can still only manage a half day of work or so."

"I know," Cameron said. "I don't want you to take the case; I just … need an opinion."

"He's got lots of those," Wilson interjected.

"Excuse me, A and B conversation here. C is not required. Besides don't you have some plan …ts to take care of?" House saved himself from revealing their 'plans' by the barest of margins.

"Plants?" Cameron asked suspiciously.

"Plants, right. Uh, plants. Yes, Lisa's planning a garden for the backyard. She wants something she can see from the nursery. I'm supposed to be taking care of some plants she wanted ordered," Wilson managed to make it sound almost convincing. "I'll just go do that then."

House and Cameron watched him walk out of the conference room. They turned to each other and each looked away quickly. These next few weeks were going to be harder than either of them had imagined.

* * *

Week Two

Cuddy shifted on her office couch for the third time in as many minutes. A set of toes was currently hooked into her ribs and was driving her crazy with discomfort. She twisted and turned in every possible direction she could think of.

"Lisa, you okay?" Wilson asked as he entered her new office.

"Your daughter apparently plans to be a trapeze artist when she grows up," Cuddy moaned as she finally stood up hoping to get some relief.

"Swinging from your ribs again?" Wilson leaned down to speak to Cuddy's stomach. "Abigail, haven't I asked you nicely not to torture your mother until after you're born?"

Cuddy lifted her eyes to the heavens and asked God to remind her why she was doing this. Wilson leaned in closer and placed the softest of kisses on her abdomen and then straightened to place the sweetest of kisses on her cheek. Cuddy smiled. _That's why,_ she thought.

"How are things coming along?" Wilson asked.

"Everything's good," Cuddy said cautiously. "The event planning couldn't have gone any easier. Allison is so meticulous; once I hinted I needed a little help this year she practically took over. I just took care of the, uh, private details."

"And how many of the private details is she privy to?" Wilson asked. Cuddy sat back on the couch and Wilson quickly joined her.

"Just what was strictly necessary. The less she knows, the easier it is for her to lie about it," Cuddy said. "She doesn't have the best poker face."

"No, and he's an expert. I'm surprised you let her know anything at all," Wilson said. "What about the honored guests?"

"Ah, well, numbers one and two are confirmed," Cuddy said, reverting to the code they'd established. House had ears all over the hospital and for something like this Cuddy didn't even feel safe in her own office. "Number three was one of those private details that she had to know about. She should have heard by now, actually. Maybe you could check with her?"

Wilson nodded. He leaned in to give Cuddy another kiss on the cheek but she caught him half way there and seized his lips hungrily. He responded with equal fervor for a minute or two and then pulled away breathless and frustrated.

"Lisa, you have to stop doing that," Wilson said softly. "You know Dr. Huntley said we have to wait until after the delivery."

"I know that. But that doesn't mean you have to stop touching me all together," Cuddy replied. She shook her head sadly. "A kiss on the cheek every other day … I miss you."

"I miss you too," Wilson stressed. "But …ah, I really didn't want to talk about this with you. It's too much stress, especially now."

"James, please," Cuddy begged.

"I miss you too. A lot. I mean _really, really_ a lot. If I don't just stop completely … I don't want to screw this up. This time I don't even have a wedding ring to scare them off," Wilson said. He rubbed the back of his neck viciously with his right hand. Cuddy grabbed his left and squeezed.

"Good," Cuddy said. "I mean, not good that you don't have a wedding ring … not that I'm looking for a proposal. I just meant good that you're worried about it. I'm glad you're taking this so seriously. And I promise to stop tempting you."

"Well that's completely impossible unless we don't see or speak to each other until after she's born," Wilson said and Cuddy smiled. "But thanks."

* * *

"I can't believe you have a secretary and I don't," House said from behind Cameron. To her credit, she barely even flinched. She was standing in hall outside the PICU, staring in at the patients. House stood beside her and pushed his walker into her leg.

"I said, I can't believe…"

"You would go through _assistants_ faster than Lisa," Cameron said distractedly. House watched her for a minute and decided she wasn't just staring at the PICU; she was staring at a particular patient.

"Yours?"

Cameron nodded. House waited for her to elaborate but she didn't seem to want to talk about it. He had just about decided to start making up wild and random stories when she started speaking.

"That file I had you look at last week," Cameron said. "He spiked a fever; they brought him in. He's got pneumonia. It's a mild case, but …"

"But you still don't have a diagnosis," House supplied.

"No. It's not DiGeorge, it's not his thymus, it's not lupus or anything else I can even remotely think of," Cameron said in frustration.

"Maybe it's genetic," House mused. He was mildly interested in the case himself. Cameron had been her usual thorough self. In fact, all of the doctors this kid had been dragged to were pretty thorough. Obviously they'd all missed something.

"You're probably right," Cameron said.

"What does the history suggest?" House asked, knowing almost immediately what Cameron would say.

"No history. He's an orphan. No living relatives and only sketchy medical records from his parents," Cameron answered dejectedly.

"Abandoned?"

"Bus accident. Parents weren't well off; they both worked at the same place and took the bus to save money. They were on their way to pick him up from day care and the bus got broadsided, flipped over and went up in flames. The only medical information we have on them at all is from the ER that pronounced," Cameron finally tore her eyes away from the boy in question and looked at House. "Any ideas?"

"None that I didn't give you last week," House said. "So, I get why you want to help him. Why are you standing out here?"

"I'm just … oh, I'm just making sure he falls asleep. He doesn't like hospitals," Cameron admitted.

"So why not go in?" House pressed.

"I don't want to get too attached," Cameron said, letting a tear slide down her cheek.

House brushed it away. "Too late."

Cameron just chuckled. "Yeah, I was kind of a goner from the start, huh?" House gave her a wry smile. "Come on in, I'll introduce you. He hates hospitals, but he loves doctors." House looked confused. "The social worker thinks it's because doctors are the only ones who give him individual attention. He has too many medical problems for most foster parents, so he lives in a group home."

House frowned at that as he followed Cameron inside the PICU. He liked kids. Especially really young ones. They didn't lie; they didn't know how or why they should. But he always had a soft spot for kids living bad childhoods. It was just too familiar. And no kid should have to live without at least one person who cared about you.

"Hi Devon," Cameron said cheerfully. "How are you feeling?"

"Hi Cammin," Devon responded enthusiastically. "I'm 'most all better!"

"You think so?" Cameron asked as she sat beside him on the bed.

"Yup," he answered. "Nigel said I'm goin' soon."

"Oh did he?" Cameron asked playfully. "Well then it must be true, because we know Nigel would fib to you."

"Nigel?" House asked. He knew all of the male nurses on staff at PPTH after having drafted several of them during 'Pricegate' but he didn't know a Nigel.

"Chase," Cameron clarified for House. "I asked him to keep on eye on Devon for me while he was here. The PICU head didn't mind. And Devon here says that Chase reminds him of a character from one of the Disney movies."

"Talk funny," Devon giggled.

"Apparently whoever Nigel is, he's Australian," Cameron said.

"I'm Devon," the boy announced proudly to House.

"Oh I'm sorry," Cameron exclaimed. "Devon, this is Dr. House."

"Owz," Devon attempted.

"Close enough," House said. "Listen, Cam, I've got clinic hours and Wilson threatened to cane me if I made Cuddy try to waddle me down. I'll stop by your office later."

"Okay," Cameron said over her shoulder, preoccupied tickling Devon's feet.

"Bye Owz!" Devon yelled.

* * *

Wilson knocked on Cameron's door and walked in without really waiting for a reply.

"Hey Allison, I was wondering if you heard from your da…" at Wilson's entrance Cameron's head snapped up from her desk and flew to the corner of the room, where House was currently sprawled out on her couch. Wilson followed her eyes and his own widened. "…uh, daffodil supplier."

"Daffodil supplier?" House sat up on the couch and looked at the two intently.

"For Lisa's garden," Cameron jumped in. Now House was completely confused, since Cuddy's garden was just a cover Wilson had used. Did Cameron know something?

"Right," Wilson agreed readily. Too readily, House thought. "So, um, will he be able to take care of that order we wanted?"

"No," Cameron said, and House thought she seemed sad. _Why is she sad about daffodils?_

"No?" Wilson echoed and the disappointment in his voice set off alarm bells in House's head. _Why in the hell is WILSON sad about daffodils?_

"It's okay. I had a feeling that he might not be able to help us out. He's not always the most reliable fa … farmer. Anyway, I think I might have a back up." Cameron caught herself just in time. Thank someone it was only two more weeks of this.

"You have a back up daffodil supplier?" House asked slowly.

"Uh, yeah, what he said." Wilson said.

"Not daffodils. But I think that he'll, I mean _they_, will serve our purpose," Cameron said, hoping for Wilson to just leave before she said something she wasn't supposed to. "Daisies," she added hastily.

"Okay," Wilson said. "Well, just let me know when you find out." House shot him a look. "In case Lisa needs to change the color scheme for the rest of the flowers."

House rolled his eyes and watched as Wilson retreated. He then turned on Cameron.

"Daffodils?"

"Wilson," Cameron scoffed, convincingly she hoped. "He's such a girl." House nodded and Cameron sighed, but neither felt good about it.


	40. Chapter 40

**A/N: Wow, I had no idea how long this would be. We're getting closer and closer to the garden fund raiser & the Wuddy birth. Plus my surprise Wilson twist & Cuddy's diabolical plan. And of course, little Devon!**

Chapter 40

Week Three

House leaned casually against the pillar near the nurse's station on the psych floor. Cameron had been acting weird. While normally weird wasn't a problem, this was different. This was secretive weird.

House did not like secretive. House had always liked knowing stuff. Even stuff that other people dismissed as insignificant. You never knew what was important; House wanted to know it all. But even beyond nearly insatiable curiosity House did not like people keeping things from him.

He was sure that Quig would have had something to say about that. He'd probably accuse House of having trust issues. Well, duh. He spent his entire childhood being abused and tormented by one of the people who was supposed to love and care for him without reservation. Of course he had trust issues. Or he'd suggest it was a control thing. When other people knew things House didn't, it meant they had the potential to exert power over him. That just went back to the whole abusive father thing and that was exactly why House had never talked to Quig about it. Who needed all that psycho babble crap anyway?

However, House really, really did not like a secretive Cameron. It's not that he wanted to know everything she thought or felt. He just didn't like knowing that there was something she deliberately wouldn't tell him. Even worse, Cameron apparently had no problem talking to Quig about whatever it was, for she had walked into his office exactly eleven minutes and twenty seven seconds ago. House was camped out, waiting and watching for a clue. He expected to be here for a while.

Making himself as comfortable as possible while leaning against the hard pillar, House hooked his cane over his elbow and dug a bag of Skittles from his jacket pocket. He had at least another half hour to wait, guessing on a 45 minute long session. House ripped the top of the bag off with his teeth and spit it onto the counter behind him. The nurse shot him a murderous glance, but House had already turned and it deflected off his sport coat harmlessly.

Suddenly the door to Quig's office opened and he and Cameron stepped out into the hall. Cameron smiled at Quig and turned toward the elevator.

House jumped, as well as a crippled man can, and darted behind the pillar that had been supporting his back. He might have gotten away unseen, were it not for the tell tale trail of Skittles on the floor. Cameron started at a red one that had rolled down the hall aways and followed their path until she was toe to toe with a grumpy diagnostician with killer blue eyes.

Cameron raised an annoyed eyebrow at him.

"Skittle?" House offered her the bag.

"That's all you have to say for yourself?" Cameron asked.

"Taste the rainbow," House said wisely.

"Are you following me?"

"Are you avoiding me?"

"Why would I be doing that?"

"Did you just answer my question with a question?" House was indignant. That was _his_ tactic.

"Don't like it, do you?" Cameron answered smartly. "I needed a favor; Quig is going to take care of it for me."

"Does this have something to do with Wilson's garden?" House asked warily.

"What do you know about that?" Cameron asked, afraid she'd been caught.

"Nothing. Unless you know something about it," House said cagily.

"Greg," Cameron huffed.

"What are you hiding from me?" House asked. He wanted her to know that he wasn't prying, not really. He was just … he just needed to know.

"What am I hiding from you?" Cameron parroted, amused. "Please. What are you hiding from me?"

"Oh, so many things," House said, now going on the defensive. She obviously wasn't going to tell him, and now he was angry. "I could tell you, but I'm working on a list right now, all alphabetized and cross-referenced. I know how you long for order."

Cameron stepped back quickly. This was turning ugly fast and she wanted to avoid a scene. She also knew that when he found out what she'd been planning he would probably feel guilty for being such an ass and sulk for weeks. She didn't want to put up with that.

"Fine, let me know when it's ready," Cameron said and turned to go. House snatched his cane from his elbow and began limping after her as quickly as he could manage. Pain free or not, he still couldn't chase her down when she ran.

Perhaps inevitably, the scene Cameron had been trying to avoid unfolded behind her. In his haste to catch her, House planted his cane atop that traitorous red Skittle on the floor and it rolled. The cane shot out of House's grasp and he collapsed loudly to the floor in a tangle of limbs and a clatter of wood.

Cameron turned and gasped when she saw House on the floor. Abandoning her escape, she rushed to him and knelt at his side, anxiously trying to check him for injuries.

"Get off me," he grumbled at her.

"Greg, let me make sure you're okay," Cameron said with concern. She was so focused on House she didn't notice the throng of nurses and patients staring at them.

"I said get off me," House said more sharply. Cameron drew back from him with a hurt expression. "I may still be a cripple but I'm not completely inept."

"I just wanted to help," she said quietly.

"I don't want your help," he shouted at her. Cameron's eyes flooded with tears and her cheeks flushed bright red with shame. House had managed to sit up by this time and reached for his cane. He looked at Cameron and saw the tears threatening to fall. "Just go," he said quietly.

She stood and left him on the floor. The crowd of onlookers scattered quickly, leaving House on the floor with his cane and his wounded pride.

* * *

"Cammin sad today," Devon said when Cameron came and sat on the edge of his bed.

"Yes, Cameron is sad today," she agreed. "That's not important. How are you feeling?"

"Tired," Devon answered. What had originally been a mild case of pneumonia had resisted their drug therapy and Devon had relapsed with a fever and severe cough the day before his scheduled release. "Why Cammin sad?"

"Oh, I had a fight with a friend of mine," Cameron said. She didn't want to trouble this little sweetheart with her problems. He had quite enough of his own to deal with, including her continuing failure to diagnose his condition.

"Owz?"

"Ow? Something hurting you sweetie?" Cameron asked, instantly concerned.

"No," Devon said. "Owz, Owz. Cammin fight with Owz?"

"House?" Cameron asked. She was surprised that Devon remembered him after such a brief encounter the previous week. "Yes, I had a fight with House and now I'm sad."

"Say sorry," Devon said.

"Oh, sweetie, I just don't think that will fix it," Cameron said.

"Yessir, that what you do. You fight, then say sorry and give hugs," Devon said proudly. He'd evidently been taught this at the group home.

"Well, I'll give that a try then," Cameron said to satisfy the boy. "Do you need anything before I go home?"

"Nope," Devon said. "Nigel comin' see me."

"Nigel is working tonight? Well, I'm sure he'll check up on you then," Cameron leaned down and placed a kiss on the boy's cheek. "Good night sweetie."

"Night Cammin. Give Owz my hug," Devon said and flung his arms around Cameron's neck.

Cameron didn't respond. She didn't trust herself not to cry and the last thing she wanted was to upset Devon. She walked out of the PICU and saw Chase and Jasper in the hall, apparently saying their goodnight before Chase's night shift.

"Hey Cameron," Chase said easily as he slung an arm over Jasper's shoulders. Cameron sighed to see the couple so obviously in tune with each other.

"Hello Nigel," Cameron replied. She knew he hated the nickname, although he bore it well for Devon's sake.

"Oh don't call me that," Chase whined. "That's all I'd need would be for House to hear and it'd be all over the hospital."

"Oops," Cameron said and Chase moaned. "Relax, he found out last week. If it's not out by now, I think you're safe. Besides, Nigel is Australian right?" Chase nodded. "House would only use it to torture you if he was British," Cameron reasoned.

"True," Chase said, brightening up. "How is he doing?"

"Tired," Cameron said. "I wish I could figure out what's wrong with him."

"Cameron, why don't you let Price and I take a look at the file," Jasper suggested. "House has been taking some pretty easy cases by his usual standards lately. We've got the time."

"Thanks," Cameron said appreciatively. "I know it's something, and it will probably hit me like a ton of bricks when we find it but …" Cameron looked wistfully back at the boy who was curled in the fetal position on his bed. "He's so smart. You know he remembered House?"

"Of course he remembers House," Chase said. "They've had lunch together every day this week."

Cameron turned and looked at Chase in shock. "What?"

"You didn't know?" Chase asked. "House has been in here every day eating lunch and watching cartoons."

Cameron looked from Chase to Jasper and back again. "Excuse me, I have to be somewhere."

* * *

Cameron entered the apartment and tossed her keys on the table by the door. She kicked off her shoes and threw her bag into the corner. It had taken her quite some time to learn not to hang everything the moment she removed it but she found once she had that it was liberating.

Feet on the coffee table, however, was something she was still getting used to. She plopped herself next to House on he sofa and took the remote from his unsuspecting hand. He was so flabbergasted that he didn't even protest while she turned off the TV and tossed the control onto the chair on the far side of the room.

"We need to talk," Cameron said.

"Is this 'I'm going to rant for four hours and I expect you to be able to repeat every word I say verbatim tomorrow' we need to talk?" House asked. "Or a 'let's have a calm and productive discussion' we need to talk?"

Cameron rolled her eyes and put her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

"Oh no, the dreaded 'I'm going to suffocate you' we need to talk," House choked out.

"That's from Devon," Cameron explained. House's face dropped. "Yeah, Devon wanted to give you a hug. Now, why would any three year old what to give _you_ a hug?"

"I'm cute and cuddly in a cool, non-obvious sort of way," House said.

"You've been eating lunch with him," Cameron said. House didn't answer. "You _like_ him."

"No," House argued. "He just lets me watch Spongebob without questioning my sanity."

"He likes you," Cameron said. House gave her a look that was clearly meant to say 'no kidding'. Cameron smiled. "He really does like you." House shrugged. He hadn't wanted her to know he was visiting Devon, although he wasn't sure why.

Cameron put her arms around him again, this time at his waist. She snuggled closer on the couch and into his side until he relented and placed an arm around her in return.

"This one is from me," Cameron said into his chest. "Devon said when you fight you're supposed to say sorry and give hugs. So, I'm sorry."

"Me too," House said. "You gonna tell me your big secret?"

"Ask me again in nine days," Cameron said. "You going to tell me yours?"

"Not yet. I'll let you know," House answered. "Okay?"

"Okay." Cameron lifted her head and looked into his eyes. "Really. It's okay."

House nodded. He believed her. And she believed him. That was all that mattered.

* * *

Week Four

"I'm melting," Cameron whined as she stepped out of House's office onto his balcony in the hopes of catching at least a little breeze.

"That's Cuddy's line," House said. He was sitting on the edge of his lounge chair and rubbing his chin on the handle of his cane.

"Watch it," Wilson rumbled. He was actually lounging in his chair, his feet propped up on the wall and a bag of peanuts in his hand.

"It is sweltering in my office," Cameron continued, ignoring the boys and their banter.

"I know," House said absently.

"How would know that, you haven't been near my office all day?" Cameron asked.

"Your clothes are sticking to you," House answered. He didn't flirtatiously raise his eyebrows and his voice wasn't laced with suggestion. Wilson and Cameron exchanged a concerned look.

"That's it?" Wilson prodded. "No stomach turning comments to suggest you've seen her look better in less, or remarks about how the clothes show off very specific anatomical parts?" House just stared blankly. "Not even a half-hearted accusation that she's showing off for my benefit?"

House shrugged. Cameron shrugged as well. Wilson was beginning to have second thoughts about this plan of Cuddy's. It was obviously taking a toll on the two of them; keeping secrets was only fun for a little while. Maybe a month was too long. Wilson angled his head toward the door and Cameron nodded her understanding. She looked at House for a moment before exiting to the conference room.

The two friends sat in silence.

* * *

"What about Munchausen-by-proxy?" Jasper suggested as she looked over Devon's file with Price and Cameron, who had joined them from the balcony.

"I considered it," Cameron said. "But in reality there's just nobody who's that connected to him. The staff at the group home is very good but … it just doesn't fit."

"As sad as Munchausen-by-proxy is, the fact that nobody could be doing it to this kid is even sadder," Price commented.

"Mmm," Cameron agreed. She was watching House and Wilson out the window and only partly listening.

* * *

"Are you having second thoughts about this?" Wilson finally asked.

"I wouldn't say that," House replied.

"I know you wouldn't say that, that's why I'm asking. Are you having second thoughts?" Wilson waited patiently for an answer. It would come.

"She's keeping something from me," House finally said.

Wilson marshaled his self control and managed not to smile. He knew what Cameron was hiding from House, of course. It was the same thing House was hiding from her.

"Are you saying you're not hiding things from her?" Wilson asked.

"You know I am," House replied tiredly. "Jimmy," House took a long pause, "she's told me everything else. Literally, everything. Things she never told her parents, her husband, anyone. And now she's hiding something from me."

"House," Wilson started. "Greg. You're looking for something that isn't there, or you're expecting something that's not coming. This is different. You have to accept that. This will work, as long as you let it."

"Just like that?" House scoffed.

"Yeah, just like that," Wilson said. House looked off into the distance. "Come on," Wilson said after a minute or two. "Let's go save that kid."

"Devon," House said quietly. Wilson looked surprised that House remembered his name. "His name is Devon."

* * *

"It's not Cushing's," Price said in frustration. "He's had nothing but weight loss. Cushing's doesn't make any sense."

"I'm just trying to think of something that's cyclical," Jasper snapped back. "You don't have to bark at me."

"Where's a referee whistle when you need one?" House joked as he limped into the conference room. He held up his hands in the familiar 'T' signal. "Coach House calls a time-out. You're hot, you're annoyed and you're obviously useless. Hit the showers." Jasper opened her mouth to protest and House cut her off. "Go. Now. Leave. Separately, together, I don't care. Just get lost."

"Do you have to be so rude?" Cameron asked as Price and Jasper straightened up their notes to leave.

"No but it saves so much time," House said smugly.

"And you're so good at it," Wilson interjected. House stuck his tongue out at him.

"This isn't helping!" Cameron shouted at them. Wilson looked properly ashamed, but House just stared at her. "Look, the A/C is barely functional in the PICU. He's still running a fever and he's prone to febrile seizures. We've got to figure out what's wrong with him. I don't want this hanging over me for the w … the rest of the weekend."

Wilson caught the slip, but thankfully House did not. Or he pretended not to and that was good enough for Cameron. It was Thursday. The fund raiser was Saturday afternoon. It was only another day. She could make it through one more day.

"Alright, time to go see the patient," House said as he began limping out of the room.

"House, you can't brow beat information out of a three year old boy," Cameron said in a warning tone. She was hopelessly attached to Devon and she wouldn't let anyone, not even House, scare or hurt him.

"What kind of monster do you take me for?" House asked hurtfully. His tone was the typical mocking sarcastic one reserved for fending off inquiries about his tactics, but the hurt was real. Did Cameron really think he would terrorize a three year old?

* * *

"Owz! Owz!" Devon practically jumped up and down on his bed when House, Cameron and Wilson walked into the PICU.

"It's hot as hell in here!" House groused to no one in particular.

"Owz!" Devon said in shock. "You say a bad word!"

"Oops!" House put his hand to his mouth. "Did I? I wonder how the hell that happened?" Devon giggled despite himself and House smirked at Cameron's outraged expression.

"House!" she hissed. "Don't teach him that! He's only three."

"Oh relax, I'm sure he already knows a whole bunch of other bad words," House said as he perched on the edge of Devon's bed. "Like sh…" he stopped talking when Cameron slapped her hand over his mouth.

Devon giggled some more. House wasn't like most grown-ups Devon knew. He wasn't always so serious and didn't tell Devon what to do unless it was really important. And he liked Spongebob. That pretty much made House the coolest guy alive in Devon's book.

"How you feeling buddy?" House asked the boy.

"Hot," Devon said.

House nodded and took the chart from the end of the bed. He noted Devon's last set of vitals listed his temperature at 101 degrees. House put the chart down and reached out the ruffle the boy's hair. He pulled his hand back slowly and looked intently at the wall for a minute before turning to Cameron.

"Cam, how long has he been here?" House asked. Wilson reached for the chart House had just laid down but Cameron answered immediately.

"Three weeks," Cameron said. "Why?"

"Has he had a haircut?" House asked.

"No," Cameron said with a frown. "What does…" House waved a hand at her.

"He should be sweating like a pig," House commented, out loud but really to himself. "But he's dry as the Sahara. There's no hair to ruffle … Devon show me your teeth." House commanded. Devon complied and House looked at the boy's few teeth carefully. Then he turned to Cameron. "That seem odd to you?"

"His teeth?" Cameron asked as she leaned in to look for herself. Devon's teeth were small and widely spaced. They were too small actually, even for a three year old. And there were only about half as many as Cameron would have expected for a toddler. "The social worker mentioned something about a dental visit not long ago…" Cameron's voice trailed off as she flipped open the case file she'd been carrying with her. "He had his teeth filed recently; they come in pointed."

"I think he has ectodermal dysplasia," House murmured quietly to Cameron and Wilson. Cameron nodded slowly as she added up many of Devon's symptoms. The high fevers even with his mild infections were caused by abnormally developed sweat glands. It also explained the febrile seizures. Without the ability for the body to cool itself, when Devon's fevers spiked they did so with a vengeance.

"That makes sense, but Greg that only accounts for about half of his symptoms," Cameron said. "What about the vomiting and the malnutrition? And the constant infections? There's still some immune problem here."

House tapped his cane thoughtfully on the floor. Devon had been watching the three doctors talk about him quietly and it was scaring him a little. He crawled into House's lap and looked up into his face earnestly.

"M'I real sick?" he asked House quietly. House didn't know what to say. He hated lying but how much truth did three year old orphan need?

"I don't know pal," House said as a compromise. It wasn't really a lie. Devon rested his head on House's chest and despite the audience of nurses watching curiously from the corner he placed an arm around Devon and held him.

The PICU doors swished open behind them and House squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want any more people to see him like this but he wasn't going to shove the kid off him either.

"Hey," Chase's voice said from behind House. "I was just stopping by to check on Devon before I went home."

"Nigel!" Devon said from House's lap.

"Hey Devon, you feeling okay today?" Chase asked. He very carefully did not make any mention of the boy in House's lap, or even acknowledge that he'd noticed. It had months since he'd had any cane shaped bruises on his shins and he intended to keep it that way.

"Devon," House said very slowly. "Why do you call him Nigel?" He was remembering something.

"Cuz he sound like Nigel from the fish movie," Devon said.

"The fish movie?" Wilson asked. Chase shook his head and shrugged, as did Cameron.

"Finding Nemo?" House asked.

"Nemo, Nemo," Devon bobbed his head up and down at House. House grinned and shocked them all by placing a kiss on the boy's head.

"NEMO," House said to Cameron. "NF-kB Essential Modifier Deficiency." He turned to Devon, who was still perched on his lap. "You just helped me figure out why you're so sick."

"Me?" Devon asked. House gave him a nudge and Devon climbed back onto his bed.

"Yup," House nodded as he stood. "Looks like you're even smarter than Cameron and Nigel here."

Devon beamed.

* * *

The quartet of doctors stood outside the PICU watching Devon sleep. The case that had plagued nearly every one of Cameron's waking thoughts had finally been solved. They should have been jubilant.

"Forgive my ignorance," Wilson said. "But what's NEMO?"

"NF-kB Essential Modifier is a major regulator of immune responses," Cameron said quietly. She was standing at the glass wall, the fingers of one hand tented against the glass. "It's basically like a master switch for all the immune cells in the body. NEMO is a deficiency in the modifier. Without, the immune system can't be turned on and off when needed."

Wilson nodded as did Chase. It wasn't a common diagnosis, and without a specialty in immunology or genetics, or an insanely insatiable curiosity about all manner of things medical it wasn't something they were likely to have heard of.

"Ectodermal dysplasia is genetically linked with NEMO," Cameron continued, although no one had asked her to elaborate.

"What does that mean for Devon?" Wilson asked. He hadn't spent the kind of time that these three had with the boy, but any child who could have that sort of impact on House was worthy of Wilson's concern.

"It means I should have figured this out a month ago when I first saw him," Cameron said bitterly. She removed her hand from the glass to wipe away a tear. "It means he'll need a bone marrow transplant to replace his immune system."

Wilson and Chase exchanged glances with House at Cameron's tears. House nodded for the two of them to leave and they both nodded. It almost felt as though they were giving condolences to a devastated family.

When they were gone, House laid a hand on Cameron's shoulder, which immediately began to shake with her sobs. He knew she'd been holding them back, not wanting to appear weak in front of Wilson and Chase.

"Oh Greg," Cameron said softly. "I know with a bone marrow transplant he could be healthy, but … he's already had so many problems. He'll still need constant monitoring and attention. Who's ever going to adopt him now?"

"Yeah," House said equally softly as he rubbed her back gently. "Who would do a crazy thing like that?"


	41. Chapter 41

**A/N: I know after that last chapter this one is dismally short, but I wanted to get something posted & the fundraiser chapter is providing to be harder to write than I thought. **

**And I have to say thank you to everyone who reviews. The last chapters got the most reviews of any chapter so far. You guys are awesome!!!!!**

Chapter 40

The Fundraiser – Getting Ready

Chase leaned casually against the wall beside the apartment door while he waited for Jasper to finish getting ready. He glanced at his watch and tried not to become impatient. They needed to be at the fundraiser early if they were going to make it for the big event. Big event might have been too much of an understatement. What was happening today had been, in the opinion of all and sundry at PPTH, absolutely inconceivable. Chase was just glad he'd never put money on the matter. He'd have lost his shirt. And a few pairs of jeans. Probably some sneakers.

"Mikki, we're going to be late," Chase finally called out. "This is only going to happen once in a lifetime. We can't miss it."

"Robbie, I just … my hair … and I never should have let that clerk talk me into this dress…" Jasper wailed from the bathroom.

Chase frowned. At work Jasper was cool and confident, sure of herself and in control. And with him, she rarely let her insecurities get the better of her. But he knew that when it came to something like this, she just felt out of her element. It had never mattered to him that she had weight issues. In all honesty, he never thought about it or really noticed. One look at her face and those eyes and she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He didn't care if nobody else agreed with him. He just wished she would.

He walked resolutely to the bathroom and opened the door without knocking. She whirled around from her place at the sink and faced him, tears glistening in her eyes. She wore a pale pink wrap dress with a deep v-neck. Chase couldn't have named the material, but it floated around her body like a cloud of cotton candy strands. Her hair was down and curled softly around her shoulders.

"Michael Jasper, I have never seen a more beautiful woman in my life than you at this very moment," Chase said firmly. "I don't care what anyone else thinks, you're gorgeous and I love you."

Jasper laughed and cried at the same time, which came out sounding very much like a snort. Chase grinned. That sounded more like the Mikki he knew.

"You could have just said I look nice," Jasper said as she dabbed at her eyes and tried not to smudge her makeup.

"Would you have believed that?" Chase asked as he stepped into the bathroom and wrapped his arms around her waist. She shook her had. "Good thing I didn't then." He kissed the tip of her pert little nose and watched her dark eyes gleam.

&&&&&&&&&

Price nervously adjusted his tie and tugged on his sleeve cuffs as he stood outside his date's apartment door. He still wasn't sure he was ready for this; it was such a public appearance. And as good as House had been about the whole matter since … well since he'd been given no choice Price was loathe to provide him such an easy target. He could only hope that today's event would be enough to distract him.

Price unbuttoned the sport coat of his new summer suit. It had cost him more than he'd like to admit paying for clothes. But when you wanted to make an impression, Brooks Brothers was simply _the_ choice. His white Belgian linen suit was the perfect ensemble for an afternoon garden party. The lavender shirt and dark purple tie were fun but still professional; this was a work function after all.

Smoothing down his tie for the last time, Price raised a tightly clenched fist and knocked politely and precisely on his date's door. It opened almost immediately, giving the impression that its owner had been standing just on the other side awaiting that knock just as anxiously as Price had been delivering it.

&&&&&&&&&&&&

Wilson gave up trying to get Lisa to relax about ten minutes after they arrived at the university's gardens. With barely three weeks to go until her due date, Wilson really wished that she would slow down a little, but realized that today of all days was not the time to argue with her about this.

Hopefully, once the stress and the planning for the fundraiser and her evil ploy to get House and Cameron … maybe she'd finally slow down. In the meantime, Wilson watched with a strange mix of desire and pride as his incredibly adorable pregnant girlfriend barked orders at the caterers and wait staff. He wasn't sure if it was the glow the emanated from her since she'd begun showing, or if it was the contrast between her stern demeanor and her outfit, but she'd never looked better.

Mother Nature had decided that summer had arrived. The heat had been nearly unbearable the past week, and for someone in their final weeks of pregnancy summer heat was just cruel. Lisa had abandoned the somewhat formal white linen suit she'd purchased for this event and instead donned a navy blue and white gingham print sleeveless dress. The wide shoulder straps and navy blue belt at the empire waist were vaguely reminiscent of Dorothy. And for some reason Wilson wasn't willing to analyze, she looked fantastic. Maybe it was the heat affecting him as well, but he was having a hard time keeping his hands off her. It had been a very long month.

Wilson brushed a few invisible bits of lint from his tan Brooks Brothers Italian cotton suit. Lisa had rolled her eyes at him that morning while he'd fussily ironed his salmon toned no-iron shirt and carefully selected a pink and white striped tie. He couldn't help but nitpick over his appearance, especially today.

&&&&&&&&&&&

Cameron stood in the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror one last time. She was glad she had let Lisa talk her into buying this dress. The ever practical side of her had said it was silly. She didn't need something so extravagant, not the second time around. But she ignored that practical voice for once and let the impulsive side make the decision.

The ivory chiffon sheath dress accentuated her naturally willowy figure. The pleated bust gave her a little shape and definition where she needed the help; the empire waist and tie back showed off her slim waist perfectly. It was light-weight and flowed nicely, for which Cameron was very grateful in this heat wave. She'd pinned up her long brown hair, allowing only a few tendrils to escape and curl down her neck.

House hadn't seen the dress, and it was one of Cameron's biggest worries. It wasn't obvious, but House didn't things to be obvious to figure them out. She only hoped he'd be so upset about having to dress nicely that he wouldn't take particular notice.

She stepped out of the bathroom and into their bedroom, prepared to start wrangling him out of the jeans he would insist on wearing and into a suit. She couldn't have been more surprised to find him sitting on the bed, his dress cane in his hands.

House had waited until the last possible moment to start getting dressed. His lack of argument in putting on a suit was sure to garner unwanted attention from her. Wilson had chosen the charcoal gray suit, light gray dress shirt and sky blue tie. House would never have put together such an outfit, but he acknowledged his fashion sense was more appropriate to a Rolling Stones concert than a garden party.

House stood up when he heard her exit the bathroom and the two simply stared at each other. House couldn't remember ever seeing Cameron look so beautiful. If he hadn't had important plans today, they never would have made it out of the bedroom. She looked like an angel, and House couldn't help but think how fun it would be to help her fall from grace.

Cameron looked House's lean frame up and down. She suspected Wilson had something to do with getting him into that suit, and she was glad that she'd be the one to get him out of it later. The dark gray and straight lines made him appear taller than normal and flattered all the right spots on his lanky frame. And although Cameron wouldn't have believed his eyes could ever look better than they usually did, the tie seemed to draw out unknown depths of blue that mesmerized her.

"Wow," she breathed.

"Wow yourself," he answered.

"We need to get going, we'll be late," Cameron said. House glanced at his watch and nodded. He limped toward her and held out his arm. Cameron linked her arm with his and gave him a radiant smile. This was going to be a great day.


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42

_**The Fundraiser**_

"Stop that, you're going to wrinkle," Wilson warned as he watched House tugging at his necktie.

"It's friggin' hot," House complained. He reluctantly let go of the tie and settled for craning his neck instead.

"It's summer," Wilson said patiently. House reached up and tugged at his tie again. "Stop that."

"James, leave him alone," Cuddy's voice interrupted as she walked toward where the two men were standing, House's parents in tow. "It's a no-iron shirt, he'll be fine."

"I hope you're getting a refund," House said to Cuddy, ignoring his parents for the moment.

"For what?"

"Obviously the costume shop gave you the wrong outfit," House said, indicating Cuddy's dress. "Maybe they thought the Elphaba black would be bad luck today?"

"Greg," Blythe said reproachfully. "I think Lisa looks lovely." Cuddy smiled her thanks. "Now stop fussing. You look very handsome, but I do wish you'd shaved." House rolled his eyes as his mother began straightening his tie and checking over his jacket for lint.

"Dr. Cuddy?" One of the wait staff approached the group from the other side of a large shrub. "The harpist is here, we're all ready whenever you are."

"Think I can still make a run for it?" House quipped.

"I'd like to see you try," Wilson remarked dryly, earning a smirk from the others.

* * *

"You know, I've never done this before," Quig remarked to Cameron as he stepped inside the gazebo where she was waiting, her back to him as she stared out over the gardens. "The wife and I had two boys."

"It's just one foot in front of the other," Cameron said a little shakily.

"Good advice," Quig replied. "You sound like you could use it."

Cameron shook her head and turned to face him. She saw the bouquet of flowers he was holding and couldn't help but smile.

"I was told that I was to supply daisies," Quig said. He handed her the bouquet and she leaned down to inhale the fragrance. "Dr. Wilson thought you might need a laugh."

"Dr. Wilson is a very smart man," Cameron said quietly. Too quietly for Quig to be comfortable.

"Second thoughts?" Quig asked with concern.

"Me? No." Cameron paused. "Just worrying about his second thoughts." Quig motioned for her to go on. "I guess there's still some part of me that doesn't believe this is real. I wanted it so much and for so long it just seems like it's too good to be true."

"And you're afraid he'll change his mind?" Quig asked.

Cameron chuckled and shook her head. "I'm afraid I'll wake up. Or the thorazine will wear off."

"Dr. Cameron, we would _never_ let the thorazine wear off," Quig said in a mock offended tone. Cameron smiled. Comments like that were exactly why House liked this guy.

"Dr. Cameron?" A member of the wait staff stood at the gazebo entrance. "We're ready."

* * *

House glared menacingly at the harpist as she strummed her instrument. She caught his eye and her fingers faltered on the pleasant, if somewhat banal, melody she was playing. Wilson jabbed House in the ribs sharply. House looked away from the frightened musician and she was able to resume the dance her nimble fingers played across the strings. Wilson frowned at House, who clenched his teeth and bit back a sarcastic remark.

House looked out over the few rows of seats in front of him. In the first row on his left were his parents. His mother was smiling at him with tears in her eyes; his father was smiling too, something House couldn't recall seeing in some time. Well, at least not pointed in his direction. Maybe Wilson and his mother had been right all those times they told him that his father only wanted what he thought was best for him. Did that mean his father thought Allison was what was best for him? House supposed his dad could be smarter than he'd thought.

Behind his parents were Chase and Jasper, leaning into each other so that their bodies touched everywhere that was proper in public. House smirked a little. He was going to keep a careful eye on the two of them. If anything less than appropriate for public was going on, his cell phone was handy for snapping embarrassing and potentially useful photos.

House let his eyes travel over to the few rows of seats on his right. Mrs. Quigley was seated there, alone. House frowned at this. He hadn't invited Quig; Wilson or Cuddy must have done it. He didn't see Quig around.

In the row behind Mrs. Quigley was Price. House squinted a bit against the late morning sun. It was Price and … that lab tech! _I am definitely getting my money back from him,_ House thought to himself. Then he smirked. The guy had kind of taken advantage of a uniquely weird situation. House could respect that. Maybe he'd let the guy keep the money.

Before House could become overly curious, the harp fell momentarily silent. The few guests in attendance stood and faced the stone-laid path behind them. The path led to a gazebo that was set behind several rows of tall shrubs. The top of it was visible from their vantage point, but its occupants remained hidden.

The harpist began to play again and House was just calling up his most menacing glare ever when he realized the song was Billy Idol's 'White Wedding'. He smirked, that was all Cameron. As Cuddy began making her way up the aisle, he wondered briefly how on earth she could have gotten Cameron talking about that without raising suspicion.

And then Cameron rounded the corner on Quig's arm. Suddenly his earlier joke about making a run for it wasn't so funny. She was radiant. House heard Wilson let out a soft 'wow' beside him and hadn't even the presence of mind to cast him a jealous glare.

Quig and Cameron walked up the aisle and stopped in front of House. Wilson poked him in the back and House stepped forward to take her arm.

"How did you know you needed to ask Quig for that favor?" House leaned in and whispered in Cameron's ear.

"Why did you put on the suit without an argument?" Cameron whispered back.

House smirked again. That Cuddy was one evil, cunning woman.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the Justice of the Peace began speaking. "We are gathered together today to join these two people in the bonds of matrimony…"

* * *

"You lied," House insisted.

"Everybody does," Cuddy replied smartly. House scowled at her. Wilson and Cameron just laughed. "I didn't lie. When I told you about it, Cameron didn't know. I never promised to keep it a secret. You ASSUMED that I would. Now, we all know what happens when you assume, don't we?"

Wilson and Cameron laughed louder. Cameron was just too happy to care that Cuddy had tricked them both. House, however, seemed genuinely upset. Whether it was because Cuddy had lied or because he hadn't known wasn't entirely clear.

"House, you've been had. Live with it," Wilson finally managed to choke out. "I've been telling you for years that Lisa is smarter than you give her credit for."

"Hmm," House said non-commitally. Cameron looped her arm through his and smiled up at him.

"Lisa," she said, turning to Cuddy, "everything is beautiful and I couldn't be happier. Thank you."

"See how it's done?" Cuddy asked House snippily as she leaned forward to kiss Cameron's cheek. "I couldn't be happier for you."

"Fine," House whined. "Thank you Lisa," he sing-songed.

Cuddy began to smirk at him but cringed instead. Wilson came forward and placed a concerned arm around her waist.

"Is your back still bothering you?" he asked her quietly.

"It's just sore, I'm fine," Cuddy said.

"Lisa, are you sure?" Cameron asked. House eyed her warily.

"These are new shoes, they're not Scotch-guarded for amniotic fluid," he warned her.

"It's just a back ache, I'm fine," Cuddy insisted. "Why don't we just sit down for a few minutes?"

The foursome joined the rest of their guests in a shaded spot where they could enjoy the lush gardens surrounding them. They chatted easily as attendees of the fundraiser began arriving around them.

* * *

A few hours later, House's parents were saying their goodbyes to him and his bride. The party was winding down; a few small groups of people remained.

"Greg," John said, as he watched Blythe and Allison exchanged a watery-eyed hug, "When you told your mother you were marrying a younger woman, I thought you were just making another mistake. I was wrong. She's good for you. No matter what you think, that's all I ever wanted for you." John extended his hand and after a moment's hesitation, House took it. "This time, you did the right thing."

House nodded, either unwilling or unable to speak. He and his father had spent their entire lives arguing, fighting and just generally believing they knew better than the other. He couldn't remember a time when they'd ever agreed on something. He immediately began reevaluating everything he'd thought about his father for so long. Damn Cameron.

His introspection was halted when his mother placed her hands on his arms. She looked up at him and the unreserved love that shone on her face brought a smile to his.

"Greg, I'm so happy for you," Blythe whispered. "I was afraid you'd never find love."

"She found me," House said quietly.

"Lucky you then," Blythe replied. She pulled him down for a hug and kiss. She linked her arm with John's and the two walked off together.

"You okay?" Cameron asked, stepping up beside him to watch his parents' exit. She couldn't hear what House and his father had been discussing, but it looked serious.

"Can I change my answer?" House asked her.

"You didn't give me an answer yet," Cameron said, confused.

"Not that one," House said. He turned and faced her, winding his arms around while hers encircled his waist. "Right now, today … I'm happy." Cameron placed her head on his chest and heaved a sigh.

* * *

"He's not telling you," House said grumpily. He and Cameron were seated at one of the last remaining tables in the garden. Wilson and Cuddy were seated opposite them. All the guests had left, and the wait staff was cleaning all around them.

"Hey I'm the bride," Cameron protested. "Today is supposed to be all about _me._"

"You obviously didn't read your owner's manual closely enough," Wilson said. "It's never all about you."

"Shut up, traitor," House shot in Wilson's direction.

"Come on, House, it's not that bad," Cuddy cajoled him.

House rounded on Wilson. "You told her!"

"I … she … yeah, I told her," Wilson admitted. "It's a funny story!"

"Maybe to you," House muttered darkly.

"Oh come on, I can't be the _only_ one who doesn't know the story," Cameron cried.

"Alright, fine!" House conceded. "But I'm going to be paying close attention to make sure you tell it right."

"I'll keep that in mind," Wilson said. He turned to Cameron with a definite gleam in his eyes and began telling her the infamous Mardi Gras story.

When he'd reached the end, even House was laughing. Cuddy and Cameron had collapsed against each other in a state of oxygen deprived giggling that neither had achieved since college. House had leaned his head back on his chair and was staring at the slowly darkening sky, but he punctuated the story with an occasional chuckle.

Wilson's cell phone began ringing. He withdrew it from his jacket pocket and answered it, still laughing.

"Dr. Wilson."

"I'm sorry, who?" Wilson frowned and placed a hand to his other ear, trying to hear the caller over the sounds of Cameron and Cuddy's laughter.

"You're breaking up," Wilson said. He stood up from his chair and walked a few paces away.

Cameron and Cuddy finally managed to contain themselves. Mostly. They were still giggling softly and in little bursts. House straightened himself in his chair and looked at Cameron sternly.

"I don't ever want to hear about this again," he said.

"Of course," Cameron said with the straightest face she could muster. "Sailor." She winked at him and Cuddy burst forth in a fresh stream of giggles. House tried to glare at her, but their laughter was infectious. Damn Cameron.

"What happened to James?" Cuddy asked when she finally noticed he was gone.

"Phone call," House nodded his head in Wilson's direction.

"No, don't put that there!" Cuddy shouted at a few of the wait staff suddenly. She rolled her eyes at the newlyweds. "Honestly," she huffed. "Excuse me."

"He looks serious," Cameron commented. She was watching Wilson talk on the phone. "Patient?"

House turned in his chair to stare at Wilson. He was pale and his face was drawn. He was barely speaking at all, just nodding his head.

"Don't think so," House said thoughtfully.

Wilson closed his cell phone and placed it back in his jacket pocket. He ran both his hands through his hair. He extended his arms stiffly at his sides and flexed his fingers. When he seemed as though he'd gotten his composure, he smoothed down his tie.

Suddenly Wilson bolted toward the row of hedges behind him and was sick as quietly as he could manage. Cameron was out of her chair and to him swiftly, rubbing his back until he was done.

"Jimmy, what is it?" she asked, just as House joined them.

"That was the Miami-Dade County Sheriff's Department," Wilson said. House closed his eyes. That could only mean one thing. "They need me to come and identify my brother's body."

"Go find Lisa," Cameron told House. As he limped off, Cameron slid her arms around Wilson and held him tightly as he sagged against her and cried.


	43. Chapter 43

A/N: We're very, very close to the end now. I just want to take up a little space here and say thank you so much to everyone who is reading and reviewing. It really does make my day to hear from you guys!

**Chapter 43**

**_The Wedding Night?_**

Cameron sat in bed, her back leaning against the headboard and a book in her hand. Her bedside lamp was on, providing a warm glow of light. The light was the only warm thing in the room at the moment. Although she'd been sitting with that book for nearly an hour, she had not read a single word. The book was a prop designed to discourage House from speaking to her. In reality, Cameron was seething with a cold, indignant, fury.

Thoughtless, insensitive bastard she had learned to accept as House's defense mechanism. It had taken her years to see through it and tears to break through it, but she had. Heartless, cruel bastard she would never accept. She'd known that House had the capacity for almost crippling cruelty, but he was rarely cruel. He knew only too well how much that sort of cruelty stung, and kept it carefully restrained, unleashing it carefully.

Tonight it had escaped its chains and lashed out at Wilson before House could rein it in. Cameron was incensed. She could scarcely believe the vitriol that had spewed from his lips. Even now, her eyes trained on an ink smudge a third of the way down the right hand page of her book, the memory caused her to grit her teeth in rage.

_House stood impatiently tapping his cane while Cameron and Cuddy fussed over Wilson. He felt badly, sure, but there wasn't anything he could do or say that would change what had happened. He'd never really understood why people felt the need to try to calm and soothe grieving anyway. What was there to say? _

_Wilson let them fuss over him for another minute or two before he sighed resignedly. _

"_I'll try to get a flight tonight so I can be there in the morning," Wilson said to Cuddy. "I don't want to be gone more than a day or two."_

"_James, there's another three weeks until my due date. Don't rush this for me," Cuddy said to him._

"_I'm not. Believe me, there's going to be plenty of other arrangements to be made. The sooner I can down there and back the better," Wilson said. _

"_Are you sure you should be doing this alone?" Cameron asked. House winced. He could already see where this was going, and he didn't like it._

"_I don't have a lot of choice," Wilson said ruefully. "Lisa can't fly now. And if she should go into labor while I'm gone, you need to be here for the hospital."_

"_It's only a day or two, Jimmy," Cameron said in her quietly persistent voice. Wilson just shook his head no. House knew exactly what she was going to say next. "Greg could go with you."_

_Wilson didn't respond. He looked at Cameron and then at House. There was nothing in his expression to indicate he was asking or expecting House to agree. _

"_I never even met this brother," House said. "Not going to be a big help identifying the body."_

_Wilson closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck vigorously. That was pretty much the reaction he'd expected, but that didn't make it hurt any less._

"_Greg," Cameron hissed. "How can you say that?"_

"_Look, he's dead. There's nothing I can do about that. Besides, Wilson should be grateful," all three of the others looked at him incredulously, "at least now he can be done waiting for this phone call."_

"_Thank you, House," Wilson said stiffly as he stood from his chair. "It's somehow comforting to know that no matter what happens in my life, I can always count on you to be a complete bastard."_

_He walked off without giving House a chance to respond. Cuddy glared at House menacingly before following Wilson toward the parking lot._

"Still mad," House said as he walked back into the bedroom. He'd been sitting out in the living room since they'd arrived back at the apartment, unable to handle the cold waves of fury pouring off Cameron's body. He was disappointed to see that she'd already changed out of her dress and into her pajamas. Still dressed in his suit, House removed the jacket and went to hang it in the closet.

He looked back at Cameron as he loosened his tie. She hadn't moved her eyes. He removed his tie and hung it on the closet doorknob. He stood there for a minute, uncertain what to do. Not that it was really different than any other night, but he really didn't want their wedding night spent arguing.

He finally took off his dress shirt and pants. He tossed them on the chair in the corner and limped to bed. He lay down beside her. Never in her presence had the bed felt so cold. It felt like he was sleeping in a refrigerator and despite himself he shivered and drew the covers up to his chest. He lay and stared at the ceiling in silence while Cameron pretended to read her book.

"How easily could that be me?" she asked him finally. She let the book flop onto her lap, but didn't look at him.

"Cam…" he began.

"No," she interrupted. "You know what? I don't want to know. I think I'll be happier not knowing how tenuous this whole thing really is. Ignorance is bliss, right?" She turned off her bedside light and slid down to lay on her back.

Hours later, Cameron was awakened when the front door banged shut. She sat up in confusion. The other side of the bed was empty. The floor was littered with single socks and the dresser drawers seemed to have exploded. Cameron got up and immediately tripped over an older pair of House's sneakers. Cursing under her breath and trying to rub the shin she'd whacked on the side of the bed, Cameron hobbled out into the living room.

It too was deserted. His iPod and PSP were gone and her laptop had been left running on the coffee table. Cameron leaned over to power it down and saw that she had a new email. Sent at 2:17am? Cameron checked the clock on the cable box. It was 2:20. She clicked the email open.

_Flight at 4am. Back day after tomorrow._

_H_

_It wouldn't be that easy._

* * *

House limped through the airport terminal, precariously carrying a tray holding two coffees in his left hand while trying not to let his bag slide down his shoulder and knock the cane out of his right. He spotted Wilson sitting alone in the row of uncomfortable and ugly plastic seats against the wall, his head leaned back and his eyes closed. He stopped in front of him and held out the tray of coffees, waiting for its aroma to do its work. 

Cinnamon hazelnutty tendrils of steam curled their way toward Wilson's upturned face. Catching a whiff of something that decidedly did not smell like airport, Wilson cautiously opened one eye. Seeing House, he registered mild surprise, but opened the other eye and sat up straighter. House wiggled the coffees dangerously and Wilson took the tray before House could decorate his lap with the beverages.

Wilson removed one of the cups from the tray while House flung his pack onto a nearby chair and sat next to Wilson. Wilson handed him the coffee and House took it silently. Wilson then removed the other cup and deposited the now empty tray on the chair on his other side. The two men sat quietly sipping their coffee for a few minutes, neither looking at the other.

"Thanks," Wilson said.

"Blame Cameron," House said.

Wilson nodded, and the two men sat quietly a few minutes more. House slurped his coffee and tapped his cane and was otherwise annoying until Wilson spoke again.

"How'd you carry the tray all that way?"

"Strong arms," House replied. Wilson snorted. "I do lots of push ups. Mostly at night, if you …"

"Everyone knows what you mean, House," Wilson stopped him. House looked at Wilson complacently and then slumped back into his seat, waiting impatiently for their flight to be called.

"You weren't wrong," Wilson said. House turned slightly and raised an eyebrow. "I've been waiting for this call for more than ten years." House nodded. "I just wasn't sure who it would be."

Wilson looked at House and House looked back for as long as he could stand it. He dropped his eyes and nodded. A few years ago, it could have easily been the Princeton PD calling Wilson about a body.

"Both calls I've been dreading for the past ten years resolved at once. Quite a day for me," Wilson said quietly, staring down at the now empty coffee cup in his hands. He stared at it for a long time; so long House began to become a little uncomfortable with the silence.

"You don't have to blame Cameron I suppose," House said stupidly.

"House …thank you."

"Welcome," House said and nodded. The attendant called their flight.

* * *

House and Wilson trudged through the airport tiredly. Wilson would have appreciated a nap on the flight down. Unfortunately, House's airplane behavior was not conducive to sleep. There was tapping, of the regular and drum-riffing variety. There was humming, singing, air piano and guitar. There was cane bouncing, drink slurping and peanut crunching. 

By the time their flight landed in Miami, Wilson was feeling slightly edgy, at best. Thankfully they had only their carry-ons, so there was no baggage claim to deal with. Wilson haltingly suggested a taxi but stopped midway through when House glared. He sighed, but followed House dutifully to the nearest rental car counter. Wilson hated to admit it, detested it really, but every so often House's bitter cripple routine paid off. A mere forty minutes later House was fiddling with the radio in the mid-sized sedan he'd had Wilson rent.

* * *

"All that time waiting to tell you they can't tell you anything," House whined from the passenger seat of the sedan. 

"House, please," Wilson begged wearily. He'd just spent most of the day waiting at the police station; only to be told where he really needed to be was at the medical examiner's office. They spent another several hours waiting there before finding out that the toxicology report was not yet completed and until it was they couldn't release his brother's body.

It was now 8pm. Not late, by any means, unless you'd been up since 2am and spent the entire day with House. Wilson was exhausted. He pulled the car into the entrance of the third hotel they'd been too, looking for a room.

"You think they'd have mentioned the toxicology report when they called," House continued his grumbling. "You could have waited and flown down tomorrow morning."

"If they'd known the report wouldn't be ready I'm sure they would have said so," Wilson answered. "Now," he turned and presented House his best 'please be reasonable' face, "I'm going in there, _alone_. You're going to sit here and behave. It will be much easier to get a room without you making doe-eyes at me."

"This is Miami, they shouldn't have a problem with us," House said smugly. "And I know that last place had rooms available. They just didn't want to rent a room to a gay couple."

"We're not a gay couple!" Wilson shouted in frustration. "It's not the 'us' they have a problem with. It's the vivid detail with which you describe precisely _how_ we'll be defiling the room. They wouldn't rent it to you if you were going to do those things with a woman either."

"Homophobes," House grunted. Wilson closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them, House smirked at him but nodded. Wilson got out of the car and House leaned his head back on his seat. At the first hotel it been wickedly funny watching the desk clerk's face pale as House went on and on about the myriad of exploits he had planned. At the second, he'd done it again just to torture Wilson. The look of utter embarrassment was priceless. But now he was tired and hungry.

"Mary and Joseph had an easier time finding a room," Wilson muttered as he opened the door and got behind the wheel. He turned again to House. "They only have a single available."

"If you can contain yourself, so can I," House said, eyes twinkling.

"I'll manage," Wilson said dryly.

* * *

Wilson snapped his cell phone shut and picked up another french fry from this plate. It was cold and gummy by now, but Wilson was starving and it was still food. He turned to tell House he'd finally arranged a flight for the following afternoon. He wasn't surprised to see House in bed, atop the sheets, fast asleep with the TV on mute. Wilson smiled. If not exactly a comforting presence, House was normal. Other than the fact that it was a hotel room bed and not his couch, it could have been any other night. 

Wilson finished his meal and debated calling Lisa. It was already after 11pm, and he knew she would likely be sleeping by now. The last few weeks had been really taking a toll on her, and he decided not to call and wake her.

Instead he found a spare blanket in the closet and covered House. Then he changed into some pajama pants and crawled under the sheets to get some much needed sleep. Tomorrow would be another long and tiring day.

* * *

Cameron entered the Diagnostic Department mid-morning on Monday. She'd been at work for a few hours and had yet to hear from Cuddy. She was very concerned; it was unlike Cuddy to be late but it was unheard of for her not to call. Cameron had called Cuddy's house and cell but she hadn't answered. Cameron reasoned that she wouldn't answer her home phone if she'd already left and could even believe that her cell phone could have died. However, when Cuddy didn't answer her pager, Cameron began to panic. Cuddy _never_ ignored her pager. 

"Need a favor," Cameron said by way of a greeting. Price and Jasper looked up, surprised by the tension they heard in her voice. Jasper knew from Chase how attached Cameron seemed to be to the little boy they had consulted on and she assumed the worst.

"It's not Devon?"

"No," Cameron replied, even smiling a little. "He's doing fine. Dr. Cuddy's not in this morning. She's also not answering her phone or her pager." Jasper and Price both registered surprise and concern. "There's a board meeting in …" Cameron checked her watch. "Half an hour. Do you think you could…"

"We'll need directions," Jasper interrupted. Price was already putting on his sport coat.

* * *

"Dr. Cuddy?" Jasper called out tentatively. Cameron had told them where to find the spare key and instructed them to enter. She would deal with any repercussions later. They heard a soft moaning from upstairs. Price and Jasper exchanged nervous glances. Jasper climbed the stairs quickly and found Cuddy in the bathroom, slumped against the tub wearing her pajamas. 

"Oh god," Jasper breathed. "Price, get up here!" she shouted.

"I'm not sure it's really appropriate," Price called back uncertainly.

"Price get your prim British ass up here now!" Jasper yelled as she got to her knees beside Cuddy. "Dr. Cuddy, are you okay?"

Before she could answer, Cuddy leaned forward and heaved over the toilet. When she leaned back, Jasper noted her pallor with alarm. Price arrived at the room's threshold and stopped.

"Oh god," he sighed. He took his cell from his pocket and began dialing.

"I heard Allison calling," Cuddy said weakly as Jasper checked her pulse. "I just couldn't get out of the bathroom to answer the phone."

"How long have you been vomiting?" Jasper asked.

"Few hours," Cuddy replied. "No ambulance," she said in Price's direction. Price looked at Jasper and she nodded her agreement.

"All right, no ambulance," Jasper agreed. "But you're dehydrated. It could cause pre-term labor. We're taking you to the hospital. No arguments. Dr. Cameron will have our heads."

Cuddy nodded and smiled slightly. The idea of Allison Cameron having anybody's head was amusing.

"Dr. Cameron is waiting for us. She paged Dr. Huntley, everything will be ready for you when we get there," Price said. He and Jasper exchanged concerned looks while Cuddy heaved over the toilet once more. Where was Dr. Wilson?

* * *

"You know," Wilson commented, "it's sort of surreal walking _into_ a police station with you." 

"Clever," House replied. "How long did it take you to think that one up?"

"Not long," Wilson answered, holding the door open for House. "But I've been saving it for years. Wasn't sure I'd ever get the chance to use it."

House stood back while Wilson approached the desk. He cast an interested eye around the waiting area. It had been quite some time since he'd been to a police station. Actually, he hadn't even been in about a ticket in … a year? _Damn Cameron._

One police station looks pretty much like another. House spotted an angry wife clutching her purse in a vice-like grip and tapping her high-heeled shoes on the floor forcefully. A few seats away was an equally angry dad, being calmed, or at least contained, by a tense mom. And just a seat away from them was a Wilson. The best friend, resignedly worried, rubbing his neck as if to ward off a headache. House felt an unexpected pang of guilt at recalling how many times Wilson had sat in that exact position for him.

"House?" Wilson's voice interrupted him. "Would you rather wait out here?"

House turned and looked at his friend, then back at the 'other Wilson'. "No," he answered slowly and turned to follow.


	44. Chapter 44

**Chapter 44**

Cameron sat at Cuddy's bedside nervously. It had been hours, and she didn't seem to be improving. Despite two doses ofprochlorperazine, Cuddy was still vomiting.

"How you doing?" Cameron asked with concern.

"Hanging in there," Cuddy said. She was tired and worried and sick of throwing up. But the IV fluids had helped alleviate her dizziness.

"I'm going to try Jimmy and Greg again," Cameron said. She gave Cuddy's shoulder a squeeze before standing up and leaving the room.

Nurse Baker entered the room to check on Cuddy. She quickly took her vitals and looked at the IVs. Then she turned to review the fetal monitors. A frown crossed her features. She looked over the printout more carefully.

"What is it?" Cuddy asked worriedly.

"Her heart rate is just a little higher than we'd like to see," Nurse Baker said. "It could be due to maternal stress. Stress on you means stress on her, and I'd say today has been pretty stressful." She reached behind Cuddy and pulled down the oxygen mask, placing it gently over Cuiddy's face. She saw the panic in her eyes. "We're still okay," Nurse Baker reassured her. "Let's just shift you to your left side to relieve any pressure on your uterus."

Cameron walked back in from the hall and took in the scene before her. She smiled confidently at Cuddy, knowing that added stress was the worst thing for her right now. _Where the hell are Jimmy and Greg?!_

* * *

"Whenever you're ready, Dr. Wilson," the young man who led them to the viewing room said. Wilson nodded and turned to face the large window. It was currently blocked by a mechanical shade. There was a switch on the wall which would retract the shade from the window and reveal the room on the other side. The room where, presumably, Michael Wilson was awaiting recognition.

House's cell phone buzzed in his jeans pocket. The young man looked at him sternly.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm afraid you'll have to turn that off."

House opened his mouth to make a smart remark, but a sidelong glance at Wilson silenced him. He took the phone from his pocket and clicked it off without answering. Wilson withdrew his phone and shut it off as well. He then turned back and faced that window.

House leaned against the wall and watched Wilson's back. In all the years that Wilson had lectured, screamed and chastised him about the Vicodin and the booze, he'd never really considered that it was really this room he was yelling about. Sure, he cared about House and wanted him to be happy, but ultimately, he hadn't wanted to end up in this room waiting to push the switch and see House on the other side of the window. House dropped his gaze to his sneaker tops. How easily could that have happened?

Annoyed now at his own introspection, House limped forward and flicked the switch with the tip of his cane. He didn't get the angry glare he'd expected from Wilson. In fact, it looked more like gratitude.

By unspoken agreement, both men waited until the shade had stopped moving and the window was completely exposed before turning to look.

House wasn't really sure what he'd expected, but it hadn't been a near mirror image of James Wilson lying on the table. He unconsciously leaned in closer and took in every detail. It was hard to tell if he was older or younger than Jimmy. His face was so drawn and haggard he could have been older than House. But judging from the needle marks up and down the length of both arms that was likely the drugs. House shuddered. Corpses didn't normally bother him, but this was like something straight out of The Twilight Zone.

Wilson gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut tight after a few moments. He nodded tersely to the attendant. The attendant nodded back politely and exited the room. Wilson hit the switch again and kept his head down until the shade stopped moving.

He looked at House, waiting for some remark. When none came, Wilson nodded silently and walked out of the room without looking back.

* * *

"Lisa, I'm just not seeing the improvement I'd like in her heart rate," Dr. Huntley said. "You're only three weeks from your due date, so there's no danger in delivering now. She's obviously unhappy in there so let's get her out."

"I don't want a C-section," Cuddy protested tiredly.

"We're not there yet," Dr. Huntley assured her. "We're going to induce labor. We'll monitor you both very closely, but there's no reason to suspect you won't be able to deliver naturally at this point." He turned to Nurse Baker. "Prep for an amniotic rupture and a Pitocin drip."

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Burke speaking," a tinny voice announced. "We're going to be delayed here for just a bit. There's a wildlife situation on the runway that needs clearing up. We should be up and flying in less than an hour."

"Oh god," Wilson groaned softly. The flight from Miami to the airport in Newark wasn't long, but any flight with House that lasted more than ten minutes was _long. _Having to wait was guaranteed to put House in a nasty mood.

Wilson chanced a glance over at House and chuckled quietly to himself. He'd fallen asleep, again. He swore sometimes that iPod had a built in sedative.

* * *

"Eight centimeters and ninety percent effaced," Dr. Huntley announced. "Lisa, I want you to start pushing. I know it's early, but it's a long trip down the birth canal. You'll be fully dilated by the time she's ready to make her appearance."

"Can we back off the Pitocin?" Cuddy panted. The drug was causing incredibly intense contractions, each lasting between four and six minutes. Already exhausted from nearly a day of vomiting, Cuddy wasn't sure she could start pushing.

"No, we really can't," Dr. Huntley said. "The baby's heart rate is still elevated. We just don't have that kind of time." He paused and looked at her to make sure he understood what he was saying. "Lisa, I know this is scary. For now, we're still okay. But I need you to dig in here and give me the best you've got."

Cuddy nodded. Cameron and Nurse Baker helped her struggle into a more-or-less sitting position. Cuddy took a deep breath and began pushing.

* * *

After the most peaceful three hours and 24 minutes Wilson had ever spent on an airplane with House, they landed. Apparently a three hour nap was what House needed every day, his mood could only be described as pleasant as they made their way through airport security. House waiting uncomplaining while Wilson dealt with the arrangements for his brother's body. And as they made their way toward the lot where Wilson had parked his car, House began to whistle jauntily.

"You're in a good mood," Wilson commented. He wasn't sure if he was envious or annoyed.

"Didn't have much of a wedding night Saturday," House commented. "This trip is going to score me huge points. I'm just planning how to cash in."

Wilson groaned in disgust and rolled his eyes. But that reminded him that he hadn't spoken to Cuddy since he'd left Saturday night. He removed his phone from his pocket, but it wouldn't turn on.

"Battery must be dead," he commented, mostly to himself. He turned to House. "Can I use your phone?"

"You expect _my_ phone to be charged?"

"It rang earlier, didn't it?" Wilson said. "I want to check in with Lisa."

"Whipped," House said. He took his phone out and tossed it at Wilson, who was lucky to catch it. House started whistling again as they reached the car. Wilson flipped open the phone and turned it on. He unlocked the trunk while waiting out the 'Finding Network' message and he and House tossed in their bags. Wilson slammed the trunk shut and reached for the driver side door. He glanced down at the phone and frowned.

"Forty seven missed calls," he said. He pressed a button. "They're all from Allison." He grinned at House mischievously. "She must be pissed." House made a face, but continued whistling. Wilson frowned again. "Thirty text messages?" He pushed a few buttons and paled. "Lisa's sick …they're admitting her …." Wilson's frown furrowed deeper and deeper as he scrolled through the messages. House's whistle died on his lips. "Severe dehydration … the baby's heart rate is elevated … Huntley induced labor."

Wilson and House looked at each other for a minute. House jerked his head at the phone and Wilson tossed it to him over the roof of the car. Wilson slid in behind the wheel while House climbed into the passenger seat, trying to reach Allison on the phone.

* * *

"If I knew why she wasn't answering, don't you think I'd tell you?" House said. "Even more likely, if I knew why she wasn't answering the phone now, I'd have a pretty good idea when she _would_ be able to answer the phone and I would call her then."

Wilson gritted his teeth and clenched the steering wheel tighter. Princeton was only about an hour from the airport, and he knew that labor took hours. Academically, intellectually, medically, he knew that he would get there in plenty of time and everything would be fine. Academics, intellect and medicine don't mean anything to an expectant father.

"Jimmy, breathe. She'll be fine. This is Cuddy we're talking about. Don't think for a minute that she's not barking orders at Huntley like a disgruntled general," House said.

"It'll be different when it's you," Wilson snapped. House's face fell, just a little, and Wilson realized what he'd said. "Oh, House, I just … I just forgot. Sorry."

House nodded. "I'll try her again."

* * *

"Aaaahhhh" Cuddy exhaled loudly. She turned her head and threw up into the basin that Nurse Baker held out for her and then slumped back against the back of the bed, now raised to help her sit up more comfortably. "I can't do this anymore."

"Come on Lisa," Cameron said encouragingly. "This can't be any more painful than wrangling Greg for clinic duty."

"Ha," Cuddy managed to laugh. She closed her eyes to rest for a minute or two before the next contraction.

"All right, Lisa, let's see how things are progressing," Dr. Huntley said as he entered her room again. He checked her vitals and did a very quick pelvic exam, followed by a long look at the fetal monitors.

"Darren?" Cuddy asked, concerned by his seriousness.

"This is just not happening fast enough," Dr. Huntley said, frowning. "Lisa, her heart rate has climbed even higher in the past hour. The baby is in the danger zone. It's not critical …yet. But we just can't wait any longer. I'm afraid we're going to have to do a C-section."

Cuddy closed her eyes and let a few silent tears fall. Cameron placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and Cuddy leaned her head against Cameron's arm. She breathed deeply a few times.

"Fine," she said. "Whatever is best for the baby." She turned to Cameron. "Where are they?"

"I'll try them again," Cameron said. "You've still got a little time while they prep you."

* * *

"Stop looking at me and watch where you're driving," House said. They were barely ten minutes from the hospital; it was pointless to keep trying Cameron now. "We'll be there before she'll even be able to tell us the whole story."

Wilson took a deep breath and prepared to give House the most livid speech he'd ever delivered when the phone rang in House's hand. They just stared at each other for a minute before Wilson snapped his eyes back to the road before him.

"House."

"Thank god."

"You don't believe in god."

"Greg, don't start. Where are you?"

"Tremont Street. Why haven't you been answering your phone?"

"The phone was messing with the fetal monitor; I had to shut it off."

"So, what's new?"

"Dammit House! "

House sighed. It was never a good sign when she called him House. Either she really was extremely pissed at him, or things with Cuddy had taken a bad turn.

"They're prepping her for a section now. The baby's heart rate is dangerously high. Don't tell Wilson until he's stopped driving. If he gets you both killed rushing over here Lisa will never forgive me."

"We'll be there in five minutes." He turned to Wilson. "She's fine. Might want to step on it though … Dad."

* * *

Cameron was walking back down the hall when the door to Cuddy's room slid open and Nurse Baker and an orderly pushed a gurney through. Cameron sped her pace to catch up as they whisked Cuddy off down the hall.

"What happened?"

"The baby's heart rate spiked; we're taking her for an emergency section right now," Nurse Baker informed her as they barreled their way through the swinging doors that led to the OR suites.

"Lisa, he'll be here any minute," Cameron called out to Cuddy as the gurney disappeared into the operating room, leaving Cameron to jam her hands into her pockets nervously.


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter 45

Wilson blew through the doors of the hospital lobby and sprinted to the stairs without so much as a backward glance in House's direction. House limped toward the elevator, shooting grim glances at everyone in his path.

Wilson had barely stopped at the nurse's station in OB when he was pointed in the direction of the OR suites. Jogging down the hall, he could just catch a glimpse of the top of someone's head pacing back and forth in the hall. He pushed through the swinging doors to be confronted with the tensest Allison Cameron he'd ever seen. _That can't be good._

"The baby's heart rate spiked, they took for a crash section about three minutes ago," Cameron said. Wilson tried to step through the doors and Cameron held him back. "Jimmy, you know they won't let you in there now."

House stepped through the doors and Cameron repeated her news. House nodded and leaned back against the wall, watching Cameron try her best to comfort Wilson. If it had been another situation, it might have been funny. Comments about the blind leading the blind flitted through his mind, but he contented himself with smirking quickly. Neither Cameron nor Wilson looked to be in the mood for his typically caustic brand of humor.

* * *

Cuddy hissed sharply as another contraction hit. She closed her eyes and listened to the hustle around her. The fact that she knew much of what was going on did nothing to allay her fears. To the contrary, it only solidified for them, driving home just how many ways this could go wrong.

"Dr. Cuddy? You okay?" Nurse Baker asked.

"Just a contraction," Cuddy replied.

Nurse Baker's eyes flicked to Dr. Huntley with alarm. She shouldn't be able to feel the contractions.

"Lisa, can you feel this?" Dr. Huntley asked as he tested her reaction over various parts of her abdomen. She shook her head each time he asked. "Let's get this show on the road then."

Cuddy nodded and Nurse Baker slid the curtain across her chest to block her view. It was only moments later that a shrill cry pierced the room. It was the most beautiful sound Cuddy had ever heard.

* * *

In the hall, a trio of doctor's paused in their pacing, clenching and cane twirling at the sound of a shrill cry. Wilson slumped back against the wall in relief. Cameron laughed and let a few tears slide down her cheeks. House tapped his cane on the floor a few times in a silent acknowledgement that the baby was okay.

* * *

Before Cuddy could really get a good look at her, the NICU nurse was whisking her out of the room. Cuddy closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Abigail Emily was okay.

But something else was wrong. She hurt.

"I feel that," Cuddy said with a shaky voice.

"You might feel a little pressure, that's completely normal," Dr. Huntley said reassuringly.

"Not pressure," Cuddy gasped. "Hurts."

"You shouldn't be able to feel any pain," Dr. Huntley said with concern.

"Tell my abdomen," Cuddy barked at him. "It … aaaahhhhh … burns," Cuddy wailed and hitched in a breath with a tremendous effort. She didn't remember screaming before things went mercifully black.

* * *

In the hall, Wilson watched as the NICU nurse carried his daughter out of the OR suites. He moved to follow her, but paused and looked back toward the OR. Did he follow the baby or stay and make sure that Lisa was okay?

Cameron laid a hand on his shoulder; she wanted to offer to stay and make sure Cuddy was okay.

Before she could speak, a woman's screaming began pouring from the OR. The screams were tortured and Wilson blanched. He looked back down the hall where he could just see the NICU nurse's back disappearing and then to the OR doors from whence those ear splitting screams issued.

He did what any father in that situation would do. He fainted.

* * *

Cuddy woke up in the recovery room, her hand held between Wilson's. She smiled up at him groggily and he smiled back. He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against her forehead.

"Abby?" she rasped out.

"She's fine," Wilson said. "Eight pounds, four ounces and 21 inches long. She's beautiful."

"Her heart?"

"Perfect. Everything about her is perfect," Wilson said.

"What happened to you?" Cuddy asked, as she was becoming more alert. Wilson winced as she reached a hand out to touch his black eye.

"The floor and I had a disagreement," Wilson joked. Cuddy frowned. "They were taking Abby to the NICU and you were in the OR screaming. I … uh … fainted."

"Oh Jimmy," Cuddy laughed. Wilson frowned this time. "I'm sorry. I hope nobody saw you."

"Just Allison," Wilson said. "And House."

"Oh you'll never live that down," Cuddy said.

"He's already posted pictures in the cafeteria, right next to a picture of Abby," Wilson smiled.

"Well, at least the baby got recognition," Cuddy said.

"I wouldn't be too glad yet," Wilson warned. "She's got horns and a tail and a warning about demon spawn."

"I don't care," Cuddy said. "She's here and she's healthy. But don't tell him I said that."

* * *

House found Cameron standing outside the NICU, looking in at the babies. He stood down the hall, just far enough away that she wouldn't notice but close enough to watch her. She stood for a long time, one hand pressed against the glass. House watched for tears, but none fell. He watched as her shoulders raised and lowered slowly in a deep sigh before slipping away unnoticed.

He made his way slowly around the corner to the PICU. He stood at the glass, watching a little boy sleep, unaware that further down the hall, someone was watching him.

* * *

"You're beautiful," Cameron said to the sleeping bundle cradled in her arms. "And no matter what your Uncle Greg says, you are not demon seed or devil spawn or doomed to burn at the stake."

"Good to get her schooled in the 'everybody lies' philosophy right out of the gate," House agreed from his place in the corner of Cuddy's room.

"Greg," Cameron said in low, warning tone.

"Fine, spoilsport," House mumbled. He hated this visiting stuff. He came, he saw, now he was done. Cameron, on the other hand, seemed content to spend the entire day staring at toes and fingers. Finally, House limped over to the bed and dropped a kiss on Cuddy's head. "You did good. Don't let Wilson screw her up too badly."

Cuddy smiled at him. She knew what it must have cost him to say that, especially when Allison and James could so clearly hear him.

"I'm out," he announced to the room. "Got a date." He smirked in Cameron's direction and slid the door shut behind him. Cameron just smiled. She knew exactly where he was going.

* * *

House stepped out of the PICU and slid the door shut. He looked up and was confronted by a pair of lovely blue-green eyes.

"Hey."

"Hey." The two stared at each other for a minute. "I don't do besides."

Cameron raised an eyebrow. "Really? What would call what you've been doing for the last hour?"

House shuffled his feet. He didn't understand why it was still so hard to admit feelings to her. She knew he had them; it was senseless to try to hide it. He'd just always been better with actions.

"Let's go for a walk," he said. Cameron nodded. They walked down the hall, Cameron following House's lead. She was surprised when he stopped at the NICU window. He turned and looked at the babies and Cameron did the same. Her eyes fell upon a bassinette labeled Cuddy-Wilson and she smiled sadly.

"You want one of those," he said. Cameron nodded stupidly. "How would you feel about a slightly older model?"

"What do you mean?" Cameron asked slowly. She thought she knew where he was going with this, and her heart began beating wildly in her chest.

"He needs someone," House said. Cameron nodded again, tears forming in her eyes. "We're someone."

She slipped her arms around his waist and looked into eyes like the sky.

"I love you."

"Yeah, yeah."


	46. Epilogue

**A/N: And so here is the conclusion of this story. It's been over a year that I've been writing this trilogy, and I'd just like to say thank to everyone who has been reading and reviewing. It really makes my day to see those little notes from all of you. I'm not sure what I'll be writing next or when, but there are always more stories.**

**_Epilogue_**

_Three Years Later_

"Devon, don't go too far ahead," Cameron called out. He slowed, marginally, in his sprint toward the playground. It was just enough for Abby to nearly catch him.

"The playground is right there," House said to her.

"I know, I just want him to be safe," Cameron replied.

"Mothers," House whined.

Wilson smirked, knowing full well that Cuddy had been just seconds away from shouting a similar warning to Abby. He pulled his jacket closed and buttoned it, glad he'd decided to wear something over his sweatshirt.

"You know, you could help me out here," Cameron's voice pulled him back to their walk, and he chuckled at the scene before him. Cameron and Cuddy were both hopelessly tangled in the leash of the House's new dog, Max. House was standing, leaning lightly on his cane and laughing at them.

"But if I helped you, it wouldn't be funny," House answered Cameron's plea.

"You're the one who said a boy should have a dog," Cameron shot back, trying to step out of the leash without knocking Cuddy over.

"He should. And a mom take care of it for him," House replied saucily.

Cuddy and Cameron finally detangled themselves and resumed walking. The children were nearly to the playground now. Either Abby had found a sudden burst of speed, or more likely Devon had slowed to let her catch up, because they were now walking hand in hand.

Cuddy slowed to a stop. They were at a park, in the fall. The air was crisp and smelled like burning leaves. The sky was pale and blue, the sun bright but too weak to take the chill out of the air. A little boy of five was walking hand in hand with a three year old little girl toward the playground. Jimmy was with her, and so were Allison and House. A dog was tugging on the leash in Allison's hands, while the leaves strewn across the path crunched under the tip of House's cane.

Wilson turned when he realized that Cuddy was no longer with them.

"Lisa, you okay?"

"Fine," Cuddy said, torn from her reverie. "It's just … this. Jimmy, it's my dream."

Wilson smiled. "Mine too."

"Mine too," Cameron echoed, sliding her free hand into House's. He looked at her, a smile of genuine happiness on his face.

"Man you guys are lame."

**CONCLUDED**

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If anyone is interested, I thought I'd put a little plug here for another story. It's called Missed Opportunities. It's a multi-author fic, written by myself and several other writers from another forum. It's a weaving together of some of the most famous "Hameron" moments into one story. It's really good, if I do say so myself. Please check it out & drop us a line to let us know what you think! Just click on my profile and you'll find it!


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